


Dare to Promise Me More

by Like_a_Hurricane



Series: Dare to Believe in Us [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, more Jotunnheim and Nifelheim world-building, no really, this came to me in a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1342609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Like_a_Hurricane/pseuds/Like_a_Hurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Sif’s relationship with Loki has always been a complex one of distrust and mutual suspicion, until she fights alongside him and his kin against the Cancer-verse. In the wake of that, all sorts of things begin to change in Asgard and the rest of the realms alike. One change, more profound than the warrior goddess might have ever anticipated, began the very day Loki, Tony and Pepper’s daughter Nadía challenged her to a sparring session.</p><p>They continued to spar over the years. Then Nadía grew up, and things became rather more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dare to Promise Me More

Sif had never trusted Loki. When she was very young, and so was he, he had played too many cruel tricks on her, and she could only bruise him so badly in return before Thor became angry with her, and she had always hated when Thor looked so angry and disappointed. When they were adolescents, she had played her own games with him, even had a few passing dalliances, never serious, always with an edge reminding one another of all the reasons they never truly got along, but never enough that they couldn’t also get off like the young fools they both were. It was a few very long centuries after that, during the half-a-dozen decades of quests and politics and Loki’s schemes growing more and more questionable leading up to Thor’s failed coronation and eventual banishment, that she had developed a sort of hatred of him, which had lasted for quite some time.

It was only after seeing him with his new family, fighting tooth and claw for them, and securing the banishment of the Cancer-verse with the aid of his brilliant lovers, that she had come to see Thor’s brother again, when she looked at him, for the first time in far too long. He still had not forgiven her for years of what she realized, in retrospect, had been misplaced suspicions about his intentions. His jealousy did not drive him; it was his fear of rejection, and however often she had been right that he was up to something more poisonous than mere mischief, she had always been wrong about his goal, about the character of his actions within their context, and exaggerated the harm he had ever planned to do; thus, usually she had left him feeling blamed for an inflated list of crimes, most of which he didn’t even do, or didn’t even come up with, to his perpetual and spiteful chagrin.

She did not blame him for being unable, as of yet, to forgive her those collective years of petty little trespasses, but despite her own understanding of his dislike of her, and his knowledge that she had begun to change, they still did not quite get along, these days.

It grated on Loki somewhat, of course, that his daughter Nadía was quite fond of Sif, and always had been. When very small, she wandered away from her kin often, when they visited Asgard, and it wasn’t long before they discovered that, more often than not, little Nadía could be found watching warriors fight. It was her brother who first noticed that her gaze lingered particularly on one warrior, more than the others.

He mocked her endlessly for it, until she threw him into the practice ring, for which she got in quite a lot of trouble, given he had almost been trampled shortly after.

 

~~

 

As soon as she was strong enough to lift an Aesir practice blade without struggling too hard, Nadía had challenged Sif to spar. The (roughly) half-human mage had been barely thirteen years old, by earthly measure, with a smile of a sort such that the older warrior couldn’t figure out where its resemblance to Loki’s ended, and its resemblance to Tony Stark’s began, for it had the trickster’s mischief and slyness, with all of the mad human inventor’s challenging brashness and bravado.

“I will defeat you easily,” Sif warned, picking up her own blade carefully.

“And I will learn much from it,” the redhead countered, grin widening further.

Despite herself, the older warrior began to smile back. It was seldom any women save Frejya or Valkyrie joined her in this place. Hel had, long ago, before destiny claimed her for another kingdom so very far away. It was no surprise, truly, that Loki’s second daughter was also fearless, and inclined to fight as well as the rest of her kin. “Very well,” said Sif, and led her first attack.

She moved a bit slower than her best, at first, letting the younger girl parry a couple of blows before spotting a flaw in her otherwise good form and knocking her backward to the ground hard, while Nadía’s weapon flew in the opposite direction, clattering when it hit the ground.

“Do you know how I did that?” Sif asked.

Nadía groaned, and sat up, glaring at her for only a moment before her crooked half-grin returned. “I think so.”

The Mighty Sif tossed her own practice weapon toward her.

The little mage caught it.

Backing up to pick up Nadía’s lost sword for herself, Sif said, “Then let’s try it again, and we’ll see.”

They did. Nadía had corrected one flaw in her form, but in attacking, she displayed another and the other warrior again knocked her to the ground, this time by yanking her feet out from under her in one sweep.

“Ow.”

“You’ve been training under your father?”

“Only a little, with swords. More with daggers, or a spear, which I’m more used to. I’m absolutely brilliant with a short spear with a curved blade, for general preference.” She sad up slowly. “But I want to learn _everything_.”

Sif nodded, thoughtful. “A spear.”

Nadía inclined her head.

“That explains the ways your form is off.”

“How so?”

“Your muscle-memory isn’t as used to working without a degree of counter-balance from the butt-end of the spear, like a cat’s tail,” Sif offered. “Try two swords, before you try one, and you may find it suits you even better than the spear.” She nodded toward the other practice weapons pointedly, then proffered a hand. “If you’re up for another few rounds?”

“Yes. Absolutely,” Nadía agreed.

 

~~

 

Over the years, as Loki’s youngest children grew up to be fearsome warriors themselves, Sif had far less mentoring to offer. Nadía learned quickly, adapted quickly, and absorbed lessons as fast as her father ever had. She was not as strong physically as the Mighty Sif, but she was faster, eventually had slightly longer reach when she reached her full height and stood an inch taller than Sif.

By the time she was out of her teens, Nadía was a genuine challenge to all of the Warriors Three, and seemed to take particular pleasure in knocking Fandral on his arse. She would smile rakishly down at him, one hand on her hip. It was still a long time before the people of Asgard felt much at ease around her, aside from Sif and the Warriors Three. When any traveler who did not know or recognize her happened to ask if she was Aesir, she had a tendency to correct them, and say she was Jotunn, from Midgard, and smile at their intense confusion.

Her brother Firas did the same thing, of course.

The pair of them caused light-hearted mischief, whenever they visited. Sometimes it was as mild as causing a mild misunderstanding in a large tavern, at just the right moment to transform the whole scene into a wild food-hurling brawl, while the twins themselves darted out the door cackling; other times it was with far more thought put into it, and greater purpose.

Whilst she strode through the largest open-air market of Asgard, on the eastern edge of the city, between lower, ancient buildings as much of stone as anything more gleaming, Sif almost understood what Jane had explained to her about a sadly common mortal condition, often fatal, known as cardiac arrest, upon stepping around a corner and seeing Nadía strolling through the place with skin bluer than the ocean and eyes red as blood, raised markings on her face and throat, and the backs of her hands. Firas was at her side in wolf-shape, looking like one of the large Jotunnheim vargs that Angrboða raised in Alfheim.

To her horror, Sif could see a number of Aesir giving the young girl the worst scandalized and begrudging sorts of looks, like her very appearance offended them on a personal level. She heard whispers nearby to effect of someone needing to teach certain kinds of Jotunns a lesson and felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as her pulse quickened.

Nadía approached a stall run by a group of merchants from Alfheim, and smiled at them, exchanging small-talk. They even mentioned Angrboða, and asked if Nadía knew her, stating there was resemblance between her, and Hel Lokissdottir.

“She is my sister, yes.” the redhead answered. She bought a few pastries from them and discussed how the wolves, and many other species of old Jotunnheim preserved only in other realms, were being reintroduced successfully to Jotunnheim now that the place was mostly-thawed, and beginning again to thrive.

Sif stood where she was, eyes darting around toward those Aesir still watching Nadía with expressions of horror or anger on their faces. There had been some trouble, with the first visitors from Jotunnheim, once Odin (or, in retrospect: Loki-in-Odin’s-guise) had opened old paths between the no-longer-warring realms; a number of Aesir––a few youths, as well as one or two war veterans who had fought against Laufey’s forces long ago––had attacked and nearly killed a few young, very tall frost Jotunns who came to Asgard with intent to trade. Sif had thought Odin’s handling of it had been rather harsh, in condemnation of the Aesir who had attacked a few of the Jotunns, who had all cited old war-like sentiments like justifications, cursing all Jotunns with ice in their veins, and stating that their ‘displaying war-colors’ among other behaviors had provoked them into attack, because they saw such a thing as disrespectful to all of Asgard.

The Mighty Sif began to understand why Odin’s(Loki’s) speeches on that matter had been so passionate. He had been worried, as always, for his children, and those he loved, even if they did not return his affections any longer. If Jotunns from Jotunnheim could be treated so zealously, and Aesir believed they would go unpunished for it, and that their irrational hatred was a worthy matter, what was to stop them attacking the likes of Angrboða and her kin making the journey from Alfheim, or even Hel herself, if she ever let her guard down anywhere outside the main palace in Asgard? What chance did those of Nifleheim have, of escaping such condemnation, and being safe anywhere in the city?

Most Jotunns did not flaunt their icy nature––especially not near crowds of Aesir, but it was not out of respect that they did so; it was out of fear. They had to purchase heavier clothes of Aesir style to maintain their body heat and prevent their appearance changing, rather than face potential rioting if they let their natural cold-resistance alter their appearance and leave them no need for such extra layers.

The day was cold, but Nadia wore only light cloths of Jotunn style: leather leggings and boots, a thin sleeveless tunic of simple dark violet, with more reddish-violet cloth wrapped about her upper chest to her waist, leaving the tails of her tunic to hang halfway down her legs, and a finer wine-colored cloth––embroidered with silver and sapphire-blue threads in complex patterns––worn bandlier-like over one shoulder, to be interwoven with the ends of the cloth wrapped around her waist starting at her opposite hip. The pieces of cloth were braided together along a thick leather strap that tied about her to sit right above her hips, acting as her belt, from which hung one long, sheathed dagger on each hip.

When Nadía walked on, Sif followed, just out of sight.

“Get out!” someone shouted at the blue-skinned mage.

She ignored them.

“You! Icy witch!”

Again, Nadía ignored the voice, even as others began to shout along with it. Other warriors hissed warnings at the hecklers, but a few men pushed past them, one with enough force to take out a nearby vendor’s stall.

At that, the young mage turned, looking at the men expectantly.

“Just who do you think you are, walking among us like that?” their leader snarled. He was large, and old enough to bear much grey in his beard, but he was far from weak, and had three times the mass of the girl he questioned.

“I am Nadía Lokissdottir, of Midgard,” she responded. “And who are you, so that I know what to carve into your headstone if you dare touch me?”

“Your father is far from here, the Jotunn scum,” the warrior snapped.

Nadía’s eyes narrowed, and at her side, her brother growled viciously enough that the men behind the grizzled leader, clearly a war veteran, began to lean away, recalling perhaps that with Loki’s children, the apple did not usually fall far from the tree and despite the youth of this pair, they might well be more dangerous than they looked.

“ ** _Arnórr Myrkvisson_**!” Sif bellowed, stepping out into the street behind them, sword drawn. “You do yourself a _grave_ dishonor, this day,” she declared, advancing so swiftly that the veteran’s compatriots stumbled and all but skittered out of her way as the older warrior spun to face her and immediately flinched, holding up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “You, and all who have been silently cheering you on, too afraid to step forth themselves, have _much_ to consider about the senseless hate boiling in your blood,” Sif spat. “You call a former crown prince of Asgard, nay, a former _rightful king_ before whom you knelt loyally more than once in the years he ruled, _scum_ for being _Jotunn_? He is a liar, and he is a deceiver, but he is worth more than ten men like you, and I would more proudly fight by his side than yours. His hatred, at least, is usually well-earned, and specific only to the _individuals_ who wrong him, not just any who d _are to look like them_ in coloration.”

The older warrior looked slightly sick, and pained, but still wrathful. “Those are war-colors she’s wearing.”

“We’re not _at war_ , Arnórr,” Sif snapped. “Have you considered that she wears no cloak, and the day is cold? Even if you have heard little enough of my words, you can clearly see your own breath, and mine. Why should she shiver, in her paler skin, just to make _you_ feel more comfortable in your furs?”

Arnórr had nothing, it seemed, to combat that with. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, jaw clenching.

“Go,” the shield-maiden commanded. “Come up with some way to restore your honor in the wake of having here made yourself a fool.”

The older warrior lowered his hands, and walked away quickly, not looking back.

Sif huffed in his wake, eyes rolling skyward. “Anyone else need a lesson in tact?” she asked brightly of the surrounding crowd. Murmurs and coughs of dismissal followed, and much of the crowd either dispersed or tried to look like they were paying attention to the wares of nearby stalls instead of Nadía, Firas, or Sif.

Nadía was smiling behind one hand, looking mirthful. “Wow.”

“Was that not your intention, to cause a scene?” Sif asked lightly, not actually sounding disapproving as she stepped closer, sheathing her sword. “You’ve given them enough to think about, surely.”

“I believe _you_ did, actually.”

“They would have responded only more violently if you overpowered them,” Sif chided. “You had to know that.”

Nadía’s expression looked almost sheepish for a moment, for the first time the shield-maiden had seen on her in almost ten years. “I didn’t plan to hurt anyone; although I may have underestimated my temper, because I did rather badly want to, shortly before your interruption. We had... plans to make it look like neither of us stopped them, but they approached earlier than expected.” She cleared her throat softly. “Thank you. Father would never let me forget a mistake like that.”

Sif laughed softly at that. “Of course he would scold you not for making a scene, but for making only the wrong sort of scene.”

“We do love him for it,” Firas added pointedly, shooting the shield-maiden a pointed look, shortly before he shifted into his more upright form. He was only a little shorter than Loki, now, but a bit taller than Tony Stark. His brown hair more resembled his human father’s, along with the strong line of his jaw and the shape of his nose, but his pale-bright eyes were certainly inherited from Pepper; although his cheekbones, notably, were sharper than his mother’s, and more closely resembled a certain trickster.

“It is no criticism,” Sif assured. “He does well by you both.”

“And you do well by us, somewhat surprisingly,” Firas mused, eyebrows arching.

Nadía elbowed him and he snorted.

“It’s a valid observation!” her brother protested.

“I’ve earned your father’s ire, and I know he has yet to forgive me for it,” Sif said lightly, to both of them. Firas looked keenly interested, but his sister appeared almost hesitant, for reasons the shield-maiden couldn’t fathom. “I do not blame him, either. I have offended none of the rest of his kin in the same manner, save that Thor is increasingly aware how my past ill-judgements caused us both to do things which harmed Loki rather more than we knew, and more than he deserved, for many of his actions. Also, given they too know of it, your other parents are indifferent toward me at best.”

“Not true, actually,” Nadía said softly. “Mother likes you, she’s just not really in Asgard much.”

The shield-maiden smiled a bit brightly at that. “I’m glad. Pepper Potts is one of the most impressive people I have ever had the privilege to battle alongside.”

Firas glanced at his sister sidelong, seemed suddenly amused, and cleared his throat reaching behind her to prod her far elbow.

Nadía turned to glare at him, moving to lift her hand, only to cringe and hide the offending hand quickly behind her back. “Thank you again, Sif. We should be on our way, however.”

“Yes, thank you for the interference. They showed up rather early,” her brother agreed. “I was supposed to have time to slip away and return imitating my dad.” He then raised a hand and waved cheerfully before vanishing himself and his sister both.

Sif snorted after them, and glanced down at where Nadía’s hand had rested on the edge of a nearby stall. A half-inch layer of ice, in what looked roughly like a semi-circle, had formed on the wood there, with a few sections broken away and spiky-looking, where apparently Nadia’s fingers had encountered trouble pulling away.

Touching the ice with her own fingertips and feeling the prickly texture, Sif wondered if perhaps the girl had been more effected by the scene caused than she had let on. Or... perhaps she had been alarmed simply at the timing of their plan falling apart? Perhaps even Sif’s speech?

She wondered, then shook her head at herself. The girl was Loki’s daughter. It would be impossible to guess the twists and turns of such a sharp creature’s tangled, complex thoughts. Surely.

The fact Sif recalled Nadía hadn’t touched the stall with that hand until after the threat dispersed, had occurred to her, narrowing it down to herself as the likely source, but the shield-maiden tried not to think about that. If the girl was made uneasy or afraid, Sif didn’t want to know. Enough people feared her that she had a tendency to try to only encourage an embolden those fearless enough to be different, and the thought of Nadía being less fearless of her was... a little painful.

Surely it was talk of her kin, then.

It wasn’t as though Nadía had any other reason to be emotionally unstable in the presence of one mere Sif; although the slightly knowing smirk on her brother’s face when he had tapped her elbow...

Sif refused to consider that. The girl was so... so very young. Even if there might be something akin to attraction there, it wouldn’t last. It was best to assume it wasn’t even a factor.

 

~~

 

Other Aesir, in the coming years, were less inclined to ignore the newfound sexual maturity of Loki’s youngest children. By age twenty, Firas in particular was incredibly shameless and reminded many in Asgard of how Loki had been at much the same age; although apparently, back on earth, the exact same behavior was seen as reminiscent of Tony Stark for all the same reasons. Nadía was more like Loki had been about his affairs after he had raised his two older children: more subtle, more choosy, and only started rumors _intentionally_.

The only difference was that Loki now, as their father, knew every single one of his offspring’s tricks, and he knew precisely how to catch them, and express occasional (very occasional) disapproval.

Firas got dragged out of a few taverns by his ear, Loki informing him in unimpressed tones that he needed to develop more refined tastes, and not worry his mother with prolonged absences in other realms, particularly without any warning, or responding to messenges. Apparently, this happened a total of eight times in Alfheim a year before that, until people started doing impressions of his drag-of-shame, sending the shifter to Asgard instead.

By contrast, Sif only knew about Nadía ever getting caught _in flagrante delicto_ by Loki because of who she was caught with, and where. It was all, to the warrior goddess, rather mortifying.

Finding the door to the changing and bathing rooms not only bolted, but unable to be knocked in with what Sif was _absolutely certain_ was enough force to send it flying off it’s hinges in one kick, the shield-maiden assumed it was recently enchanted. Curious, she stepped a few paces to the side, outside the range most mages used for a seal like that, and put her ear to the wall.

She heard a familiar voice making some very _enthusiastic_ sounds and snorted. She had every plan to walk away, and leave her old friend to enjoy her current lover.

“Anyone familiar?” asked someone over her shoulder.

Spinning around, she blinked a bit uncomprehendingly to see Loki standing there with his arms crossed, and an annoyed look on his face. “Valkyrie, so I might recommend against interrupting, considering she’s still fairly capable of making you regret it. Why?”

“Ah. Regrettable, yes,” Loki mused. “I can’t exactly say she has bad taste. It’s just always disconcerting when it’s someone I recall the...” He cleared his throat, blushing slightly. “The drawbacks of our sort of longevity, Lady Sif, are that one’s children may easily have affairs with a number of people you yourself once did.” He stepped around her and banished the enchantment on the door easily, before elbowing it just hard enough to break the bolt slightly, such that the door was open only by a few inches. He listened for a few seconds. “Nadía! From my personal experience, I’d say she sounds quite finished, and you and I need to have a long talk, I believe.”

A few clumsy, clattering sounds and loud stream of curses followed, and Loki sighed, dodging a throwing knife that flew out of the narrow opening of the door. “You missed your dad’s birthday, darling.”

A dejected thunk followed. “Dammit.”

Sif stood frozen in place, eyebrows raised very highly indeed.

Loki shot her a winning grin. “If I ever find you in a similar position to this, I may cause you harm reflexively, dear Sif,” he called idly.

A loud crash from within the wooden building followed. “WHAT?!”

“All the more reason you should choose your locations more wisely,” the trickster sing-songed to his daughter, oblivious to how beet-red Sif had gotten until he caught just a glimpse of it as the shield-maiden spun on her heel and marched off in a huff. Loki, knowing her well as he still did, frowned a little thoughtfully after her. “Or perhaps not harm you,” he murmured, barely audible even to himself. “Apparently you _care_. Interesting.”

He narrowly avoided being smacked by the door being abruptly pushed open, though the remains of the now-shattered bolt bounced off his chest-plate.

Nadía glared up at him, blushing a deeper crimson than he had ever seen, across not only her face and neck, but along her shoulders and down both arms. “ _You_ ,” she snarled, wagging a finger in his face, “need to _never_ do that again.”

Loki slowly arched one eyebrow. He knew that she did not begrudge him the interruption itself, and had accepted such things, on the occasion his interruption was merited such as in this case, were inevitable; she meant his choice of words, in front of a particular witness. “I had no idea you held Sif in quite such esteem, or I would not have said anything of the sort,” he whispered.

Her blush deepened still further, as she straightened her tunic and tugged on her coat over it, buckling belts around her waist and not looking at him. “I have for a long time,” she admitted, also in a whisper. “It’s nothing.”

“Nadía...”

“I’m sure you’re _relieved_ , since I had no idea you’d ever––with––are there any warriors here you haven’t-” She stopped herself, eyes squeezed shut. “The _women_ , anyway?”

Loki cleared his throat softly and repaired the door after leaning in to shoot Valkyrie a mildly disapproving nod of acknowledgement. He then placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and began to lead her away. “It’s... going to continue to be a factor, unless I compile a list, but if I do that, and you are so disturbed already by mutual dalliances here, you will only be further disturbed. By the standards of most any of the nine realms outside of Midgard, this is not actually unusual, and of any you might dally with here, I have not been involved with them for over a century. I am not actually that bothered, save by the ages of some of them. You are still very young, my dear.”

“I know, I know, but I’m still smarter than most of them, and you know it. They’re hardly taking advantage,” Nadía assured.

Her father huffed a small laugh at that. “Very true... in most cases.” He looked at her more seriously then. “About Sif...”

“She has no interest in me,” his daughter assured quickly.

“Should that change, I want you to know that I would not harm her. Not truly.”

Nadía stopped in her tracks, forcing him to stop, and glared up at him for a few moments. “You’re serious.”

“You could do far worse,” Loki said simply. “She has changed, since I knew her. I have yet to overcome my pride enough to admit it _to her_... but having heard of her actions, particularly to do with you and your brother, I believe she has become someone I might once more respect.”

“Is this... you giving me approval to woo... Sif?” Nadía squeaked.

“Not at least for another half-century, young lady,” her father snapped, in perfect imitation of Pepper’s tone, though not her voice.

The younger mage cracked up, giggling helplessly for a few moments. “Okay, okay. You’re crazy, fine.” Her eyes glittered bright with mad mischief, then. “But I’ll hold you to that. Fifty years only.” She began to stroll away, still straightening and adjusting her clothing and its various armored pieces.

“Wait...” Loki followed sharply. “That wasn’t at all what I-”

“Ah-ah! I have approval, pending five measly decades!” She flashed a grin at him. “No take-backs.”

“I hardly gave my _word_!”

“You said it to _me_. You might as well have.” She kissed his cheek. “It’s one more thing your children all do love about you. Would you really take it back?” Her eyes widened a little and she offered a pout.

Loki frowned at her. “That won’t always work.”

“Will it work this time?”

The trickster rubbed both hands over his face, cursing quietly.

“That sounds _suspiciously_ like a yes,” Nadía sing-songed.

“If she’s still respectable, in that time, and you’re so _sincere_ in your regard as to woo her genuinely,” Loki clarified, shooting her a glare, “I shall not stop you.”

“Oh.” Nadía’s eyes widened. “Ohhh, that’s not fair, she doesn’t even look at me like she’s even––she wouldn’t-”

“Sif knows precisely how young you are, darling. Time changes many things. She is an honorable creature, and sincerely believes in things such as redemption and valor. If you chase her, and this is my condition, you will do so with your heart. She deserves that much, given in what regard it is clear, even to me, she holds you in.”

“Wait... what?”

“She respects you. She likes you. She would fight beside you and protect you against any enemies who dared threaten you while she happened to be near,” Loki said. “I know her of old. It is a familiar look, on her, and I have seen it when you both spar.”

“This took a very strange turn somewhere,” Nadía said, sounding a bit dazed. “How are we even having this discussion, father? This is _utter_ madness.”

“Because I saw your face when you were angry at me for saying what I did to the Lady Sif, and I have never seen you so close to tears over such a thing in over fifteen years,” Loki pointed out. “Your composure is usually much more difficult to decimate, particularly when it comes to anything like shame.”

“We learned from three of the best,” she shot back.

“Precisely,” her father riposted.

“It’s just a crush, father.”

“That you’ve harbored ‘for a long time’.”

“Exactly! I was extremely young, when it started, and it just infuriatingly won’t go away,” Nadía snapped. “Various things in my life would be so much easier if it would.”

Loki shot her a look. “How young?”

His daughter blushed again, almost as intensely as earlier. “Since I first saw her.”

The trickster nodded, impressed, but said nothing.

The silence lasted several long seconds. Nadía managed to get her clothing presentable-looking with one last tidying spell and a couple other magic-based adjustments to make up for a few bits of clothing she’d had to leave behind, in all of her haste. “What is it?” she sighed, annoyed by the quiet.

“I’m actually still in shock.”

She snorted. “Why?”

Loki only shook his head. “On the list of conversations I never expected to have with you or your brother, this is high on the list, that’s all.”

Nadía gave a bitter half-laugh, as he reached over and provided a spell that made her slightly-messy hair look much tidier. “I can see that, I suppose.”

 

~~

 

Nadía wasn’t officially affiliated with S.H.I.E.L.D., nor was she technically a member of the Avengers (although she was listed on their reserve team, if one dug deep enough in to those highly encrypted files); and yet, still she found herself constantly embroiled in messes that technically belonged to one, or the other of them.

Firas was rather less interested in “the situation on the ground” and did less investigation and pursuit than did his sister, when it came to terrestrial threats on earth. He preferred to hunt prey he considered to be of greater challenge to him: rogue mages, illegal artifacts traders, even occasional piracy and smuggling rings, as well as interplanetary war-criminals. He would hunt them for weeks, sometimes months at a stretch, across multiple worlds and had so far never come back from such a hunt empty-handed; although on a few occasions he came back with different prey in custody than he originally set out for, but he insisted that those occasions still counted.

His sister was not a shape-shifter, and although her prowess with magic was considerable, she was still not nearly to capable of blending in through so many places, among so many races and peoples, as her brother. She could go anywhere within the nine realms, but Kree and Skrulls alike already too well knew her face, from confrontations with her and heroes of earth, and she could only conceal herself so much from a race of shape-shifters on the one hand, and a race who were used to piercing illusions and hunting shape-shifters on the other.

Thus did Nadía did tend to spend her time within the branches of Yggdrasil, and when not studying magic independently, or with the Lady Hlín in Asgard on more complex projects more difficult to pursue solo and without any sort of guidance, she had developed a habit of emulating Black Widow, with the significant difference that she did not wait for orders or plan missions for herself, precisely.

She mostly just hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D. to see the top threats of the week or month, and would puzzle over all of them until one or more in particular caught her eye and really got her thinking. Inevitably, she would find trails or clues S.H.I.E.L.D. had either missed, or not been able to pursue, and she would quietly make her way wherever those little bits of data led her, and she would satiate her own curiosity.

As a result, she was very, very often involved in fire-fights that, so her entire family liked to remind her, she technically had no business being in.

If it weren’t so fun, she would stop.

Well, usually it was fun.

It was less so when it looked like people she had known and respected for years were about to get killed before she could save them.

“Agent May!” she cried out. “Down! Now!”

The human warrior hit the ground.

Nadía pulled the metaphorical pin out of the spell she’d been casting, aimed, and launched it at the Hydra Dreadnaught, narrowly missing where Agent Melinda May’s head had been a moment before. The spell drilled through the cover over the power cell with an angry nearly-electric whirr and a furious shower of sparks, pushing the machine backwards just far enough, as its systems began to fail, to collapse it.

One down, over a dozen left to go.

Hydra, Nadía reflected, had a far too high propensity toward overkill.

A sudden, obscenely loud roar followed and she felt her blood run cold.

“That didn’t sound like a machine!” roared Agent Ward over the radio.

“DO NOT FIRE AT THE FROST GIANT!” Nadía bellowed. “PASS IT ON, AGENT MAY. THEY’VE OPENED THE PORTAL!” She dove headlong into the battle, dodging amongst the feet of the Dreadnaughts and tripping them up where possible, trying to get her way to the lower levels of the base, where scans had shown a space the size of an airplane-hangar deep under the surface rock.

The stones were now rattling under her feet even once she was past all the Dreadnaughts. If that primal roar was from who she suspected it was from, and he was pissed off, those robots might soon be the least of their problems, because that sounded like Engelráð, and Engelráð the storm Jotunn would tear half the mountain apart before she was through with anyone she perceived as overly hostile.

As soon as she had enough room to cast a quick look-ahead spell, and detect a fairly safe landing spot in the larger chamber below, Nadía teleported all the way down, and landed in a cat-like crouch in the far corner, as Hyrda personnel, including several more Dreadnaughts, surrounded a twenty-foot tall storm-Jotunn, who wore a thick leather wrap, from the hide of what must have been a respectable dragon once, wrapped around her chest, with thicker sections of hide belting it above her breasts and around her waist. Similar material formed leggings which only went halfway down her thighs. She wore nothing more, for she had no need for armor.

She was not thin, and did not bother with any drape of cloth from shoulder to hip as most of those Jotunns wore of recent. She was heavy, broad-shouldered, broad-hipped, and her skin was of a hue somewhere between dark olive and ash, with markings not entirely unlike those which the queen of Helheim wore down one side, save that they were silver-white on this Jotunn, and only up her back, over shoulders and down her arms, and creeping down from her brow and temples.

“Engelráð,” Nadía groaned. This was _not_ how she had wanted this evening to go.

Especially not given that Hydra was shouting orders at a hermetic storm-Jotunn older than Odin, and she was beginning to look maliciously amused.

“No! NO NO NO, STOP THIS BULLSHIT!” Nadía bellowed, magic causing her voice to boom throughout the room. She teleported herself onto the back of Engelráð’s neck while all the guards inspected the direction she had been shouting form before.

“Engelráð, can you hear me?” she said, half-shouting, knowing the guards would barely hear her over their own chaos for the time being.

“I hear a familiar voice, but very small,” Engelráð boomed.

The whole room went still, staring.

Twisting the air to amplify her voice but keep it aimed only into the storm-giant’s ears, the younger mage said slowly, “I am Nadía Lokissdottir, and I would ask you to please listen to me. They will start shooting ineffective but annoying projectiles at you soon, but please act conservatively in response.”

“Oh, they hardly deserve that.”

“I know they do not, but you are underground, and to use your full strength would bury you under a half a mountain, along with myself and a few dozen mortals less stupid than these, who I count as my allies. Please. The portal looks to still be open. You can return easily to Jotunnheim once this chamber alone is cleared of stupid Hyrda mortals,” Nadía clarified. “Will you aid me?”

“You are a very practical little creature, Lokisdottir.”

“I do try.”

“I will respect your claim upon your allies, and be... only a little gentle.”

Despite herself, Nadía grinned unpleasantly. “Ready when you are.”

Chaos followed.

The Dreadnaughts fell like toys before the massive, ancient storm-Jotunn, her fists heavy and her fingers dexterous despite also being massive, crushing large metal bodies and smaller, squishier ones alike.

Nadía made a bit of a face at some of the resulting gore, especially as some of it (thrown over the ancient Jotunn’s shoulder casually) splattered her, but she was soon enough distracted by a few smaller figures leaping into the room through the portal. “Engelráð, will you give me your word to return through the portal once this chamber is clear of enemies?”

“You have it, little one. My respects to your mad kin.”

Shaking her head at the mixture of insult and bitter respect in the ancient Jotunn’s tone, Nadía teleported back to the edge of the portal.

The four figures, smaller than most Jotunns, were enveloped immediately in blue-violet fog, and stood perfectly still.

“Oh it’s _you_ ,” they heard from all directions. “Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three...”

All the smoke swirled up and into Nadía’s raised hand, which seemed to snap it out of the air and crumple it in her palm. “Well met, you mad Aesir. What were you doing in Jotunnheim?”

“Past tense?” Sif asked lightly, then got a better look around. “Ah, Midgard.”

Suddenly, the young mage in front of her bristled with anger. Very quietly, she inquired, in deadly tones, “Are you telling me that all four of you leapt through a mysterious portal in the middle of a stormy seaside mountain range _with no idea where it may lead you_?” and her voice turned causticly harsh toward the end.

All four Aesir looked taken aback.

“Well, when you put it that way...” Fandral looked sheepish, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “It... seemed the thing to do?”

“I swear to fucking science, you live life like a _video game_ ,” Nadía groaned, slapping a hand across her eyes. “You could’ve been sent into an abyss! It could’ve been a natural phenomenon in the likes of Jotunnheim, or an experiment or a trap by the master of the cliffs over there!” She jerked her thumb toward the catastrophic destruction being inflicted against Hydra behind her, caused at the hands of Engelráð.

“Should we... uhm...” Volstagg gestured toward the Jotunn.

“She’s on fairly friendly terms with both King Býleistr and my father, after the thawing of Jotunnheim. She’s no threat to me. I should let her be a threat to you just to knock some sense through your over-frequently concussed skulls!” Nadía snapped.

“Nadía,” Sif said, her tone serious and a little sharp, but not quite commanding: a request to be heard, not a demand.

The young mage focused upon her, glaring fiercely. “You have the least excuse, for this, Sif. You are in possession of a genuine, honest-to-neurobiology functioning brain that looks for more than _convenient plot-devices_ ––also known to any half-wit mage in Jotunnheim as **_hero-traps_** ––when you’re outside Asgard and faced with something like a mysterious portal into the unknown.”

“We got reports from Jotunnheim that strange phenomena were occurring near where we found this portal, and that they looked Midgardian. Given Thor was not available, nor your father, we were called to look into the matter and discern if it might be dangerous. We saw the... we saw her go through the portal, after having appeared to find it sound,” Sif said, gesturing toward the still-rampaging elder storm-Jotunn. “That said, I admit we saw no indications as to whether or not she might have been a mage. These three leapt through the portal, and I followed because even if it was to certain doom, these are my brothers in arms, and I would not send them to their deaths alone.”

Something caught between hurt and dismay crossed Nadía’s expression, at that. “You should value yourself more highly.”

“I have few kin to return to: none, at least, who have any great need of me. I fight alongside my friends, in no small part, for that very reason,” the shield-maiden said. “They, I know, would do the same for me without hesitation.”

Nadía only just barely restrained herself from responding instantly with, _Yes, but the difference is that_ they _are_ idiots _, Sif!_ She bit her tongue, and took a deep breath. “Fine.” Her smile was stiff and a little cruel. “With your aid, then, I know of some S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on the level above in need of aid, if you four would be willing to join me in the fight.”

“What about your friend, here?” Hogun pointed out, nodding toward Engelráð.

“She’ll be fine.” The mage made a shooing gesture toward the portal. “She gave her word to me that she will head back home when she’s done. Hydra picked the _wrong_ mountain in Jotunnheim to drop this portal onto, let’s say. Ready your weapons.” Once they all had weapons drawn and shields raised, Nadía vanished them from the hangar and brought them into the midst of the last dozen Dreadnaughts, which were only a little more damaged by S.H.I.E.L.D.’s efforts so far.

“Have at them!” Nadía declared, arms aglow with crackling power and skin darkening to blue as she leapt up onto one of the machines and stabbed both of her long, curved blades into either side of the top of it, magic pulsing through the metal and into the machine’s circuitry so she yelped briefly at an electric surge, but held fast, overloading it at the same time she began to chill it rapidly in key places, wherever important and delicate circuitry might be found, pushing apart the smallest crucial bits of metal and plastic with stubborn ice-crystals. The ice disabled regulatory systems, and the overloaded power units, without anything to keep their temperature and chemistry stable, super-heated.

The results proved explosive a few seconds later.

Nadía reflected that perhaps she had used a bit of overkill as well.

Then she hit another Dreadnaught, skull-first, and fell to the ground hard upon bouncing off of it. She rolled and leapt to her feet only a bit slower than usual, blinking fast to clear her vision. Noises seemed very far away, suddenly.

It took her a few minutes of dodging and blasting another of the machines to its downfall for her to realize one of the distant sounds, at the edge of her muted awareness, was her name being called. At least, it might be. She only discerned it for certain when Sif seized her by the shoulder and forced the young mage to face her, saying her name again.

Nadía blinked at her. “I can’t actually hear you,” she said, only a little louder than she would usually communicate in the middle of a battle.

Sif’s lips thinned. She reached out, surprisingly gently, and touched the back of the younger woman’s head: just the hair, careful not to brush skin. She brought that hand in front of Nadía’s face, showing it to be freshly smeared with blood, and then shot the young mage a pointedly disapproving look.

“That... would explain a lot,” Nadía admitted. They both dodged a monstrous drill-arm from one of the Dreadnaughts shortly after.

Letting Sif drag her behind a bit of cover, the mage focused on inspecting her own head injury carefully with her fingertips. With her less bloody hand, she checked both ears as well, to make sure neither of them also bled. The shield-maiden glared at her until Nadía at last cast a healing spell, sealing the injury and recovering a significant degree of her hearing.

Working her jaw a bit, Nadía rubbed one ear. “Damn. Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t have kept fighting like that,” Sif growled.

“And you should keep your pet cohorts on a tighter leash so they don’t get themselves, _and you_ , killed,” the young mage snapped.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Why are you so angry about this?” the shield-maiden asked. “This is the sort of risk we take all of the time-”

“I have lost people to sheer stupidity over things like this. Young friends of mine, when I was learning some of my earliest magic training in Jotunnheim,” Nadía growled. “This should be basic, for all of you. You do not leap before you look. If what you are looking at has to be leapt into to be understood, you find someone with sharper eyes to look still closer before you go _running headlong into it_.”

Suddenly, Sif’s lips twitched in something like bitter humor.

“What is it?”

“I’m recalling a similar speech Loki gave Thor on several occasions, actually. I’m sorry. I will have to take up the mantle of clear-headed one, with more seriousness, without either of them accompanying us on our quests of late.”

Nadía sighed heavily. “Please do. I really would prefer you alive, Sif.”

“And I you,” the shield-maiden pointed out, prodding the still-sore spot that was formerly a gaping head-wound.

With an uncomfortable hiss, Nadía waved her off. “I get it, I get it. Sorry. I’ll be more careful.” She shot the goddess a glare. “If you will.”

Sif shook her head ruefully. “We could neither of us sanely swear to that.”

“Ain’t it the truth,” the mage sighed. “Let’s get back to kicking ass now.”

“Agreed.”

They vanished again, and reappeared between two Dreadnaughts that never knew quite what hit them, before they themselves hit the ground.

The Warriors Three had taken care of another three, and begun on another, as Sif and Nadía maneuvered the drill arm of the second they dragged to its knees through the chest cavity of a third, which Nadía coaxed to explode from a distance this time, taking out another two with the blast.

The last one, all of them contributed to, and in the wake of its fall, cheers came from the nearest heavily damaged S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles.

Breathing hard, Nadía let herself lean slightly against Sif’s shoulder, grinning a bit. “That went better than I expected, honestly.”

“Glad to be of service,” the shield-maiden assured.

“And now I’m covered in oil and machine grease as well as blood,” Nadia sighed.

“Where _did_ all the blood-splatter on your armor come from?” Volstagg asked. “It is at a most unusual angle.”

“Well, I was sort of on Engelráð’s shoulder when the carnage started,” she said.

“Who?” Hogun inquired.

“Engelráð Olvaldissdottir. She’s the storm Jotunn whose mountain you guys blundered up the side of and wandered through a random portal on,” Nadía deadpanned.

All of the Warriors Three went very pale.

“O-Olvaldi’s daughter?” Fandral inquired, lightly as he could manage.

Nadía grinned unpleasantly.

Sif nodded thoughtfully. “I see why you were angry.”

“Yes!” the mage exclaimed, “ _Thank_ you! For finally getting the point!” She straightened a bit as men in suits began to emerge from the wreckage. She had learned, at this point in her life, that it was actually far easier to teleport away from the aftermath of occasions like this with minimal or no civilian casualties, and wait for S.H.I.E.L.D. to send her the paperwork and demand statements from her later. “Here is your one and only chance to leave here before getting bogged down in paperwork. I’m willing to put it to a vote, but you have to make your choice immediately: stay here, or go to Avengers tower?”

“Isn’t the paperwork important?” Hogun asked.

“That’s what Stark Industries’ legal team is for,” Nadía responded. “Hands up for those who want to go to Avengers tower!” All hands raised. “Good choice!”

They all vanished, much to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s perturbment.

The Warriors Three and Sif were disconcerted, however, by a brief detour.

“Why are we back at the portal?” Volstagg asked.

“Because it is _so_ going on the list of things S.H.I.E.L.D. does not need,” Nadía said, pulling a few small spidery devices from her belt and sending them crawling along the outer edge of the portal, though two of them crept away toward the towers running the various programs keeping it up and stable. The mage glanced at a device that was not actually a wristwatch. “Yep, that will be toast in five minutes. _Now_ , the tower.” Before the others could say another word, they were teleported again.

 

~~

 

Arrival in Avengers tower went well enough, after Nadía’s presence registered and JARVIS disarmed all automated defense systems that had bristled at the sudden intrusion. The Warriors Three looked a little uneasy about all the weapons that retracted into the ceiling, but Sif merely nodded in approval.

“You guys hungry?” Nadía inquired, snapping her fingers with a spell that both cleaned all of them so they wouldn’t track the debris of battle all through the tower, and also changed her own armor into more earthly garb: a black fitted t-shirt and faded blue jeans that were only slightly abused.“Aside from Volstagg, because I know your answer.” The Aesir chuckled lightly in response.

“I, for one, could eat a horse’s weight in food at present,” Sif said.

“Duly noted. JARVIS? Pizza contacts, tip as fits a Stark, keep in mind which Aesir house-guests we have this time ‘round,” the mage called.

“Right away, Miss Stark.”

“Thank you, brother dear,” Nadía responded.

“Brother?” Fandral asked.

“It’s a long story, and not one that I plan to tell you, but he is my brother as much as Fenrir, let us say,” the mage replied, leading them into a nearby elevator, and hitting the button for the main common rooms.

“But how...” Fandral appeared at a loss.

“Don’t overthink it,” Nadía sighed, her tone blithe.

They emerged into the shared living-room and heard an immediate yawp of joy from a few of the other residents.

“Hey! How’s Asgard!” Clint called.

“Asgard is well,” Sif announced. “And how is Earth?”

“Mad as ever,” T’Challa responded, standing up to greet them once they approached, whereas Clint only outstretched a hand from his place on the couch for high-fives, due to being couch-ridden with a broken leg.

Nadía tapped on his cast with her short nails audibly. “Again, Barton? Aren’t you getting a bit old for this?”

“It was _not_ my fault this time!” he insisted. “And I’m still going to win an apple from your dad in a poker game one of these days. Or Loki. One of them.”

“It was his fault,” Natasha assured, nodding respectfully to each Aesir in lieu of standing. “I presume you’ve ordered a feast for our guests, Nadía?”

“Yes, I did,” the mage responded, smiling brightly at the assassin.

Sif had seldom seen Nadía quite so content under another’s attention, almost preening, as though Natasha were a favorite aunt, which the shield-maiden supposed was likely not far from the truth.

“Then sounds like we’re having a celebratory feast, then,” Steve declared, shaking each of their hands firmly alongside T’Challa. “It’s good to see you all doing so well.”

 

~~

 

Once food arrived and was eaten, and Nadía quietly brought out a small portion of her personal horde of liquor capable of rendering even Aesir and Steve Rogers a bit stupid, the night became something of a pleasant blur.

While the Warriors Three were slowly taught how to play Jenga by Steve, Sif sat on one of the couches with Nadía and Natasha, all three of them exchanging tales for a long while. Most of Nadía’s better ones were to do with places in Jotunnheim she wasn’t supposed to be. Natasha told them the more light-hearted highlights reel of Budapest. (Clint had fallen deeply asleep after one shot of what Nadía was drinking, which turned out to be water she had put a sleeping spell on, citing that it served him right for trying to mix liquor from another planet with his pain medications, which Natasha couldn’t disagree with.) Sif told them both of a particularly treacherous quest she undertook through Nornheim on her own, when she was much younger.

Nadía seemed stunned by the tale of a Mighty Sif much less experienced, less jaded, but still incredibly tough and fearsomely bold enough to snarl in the face of the Queen of Nornheim and live to tell the tale.

Natasha was eventually lured into the game of Jenga at T’Challa’s insistence that she was what his team needed, in the brief lull after their third tale.

Nadía leaned over, pleasantly buzzed and warm, and rested her head on Sif’s shoulder with a hum.

“Am I forgiven, then, for my earlier trespasses?” inquired the goddess.

“Hmm? No, actually. Especially since this would be way more comfortable without the metal digging into my scalp.”

“You’re the mage, here.”

“Are you suggesting I remove your armor with magic?” Nadía teased.

Sif snorted, shaking her head. “I meant you could transfigure it temporarily into more casual garments.”

“Oh, well, if you want to be dull about it.” The mage snapped her fingers casually.

The shield-maiden felt abruptly more exposed, though it was truly just the absence of multiple layers, and instead she wore simple black jeans and a button-down shirt of the same maroon hue as her usual leathers.

Nadía resettled her head on Sif’s shoulder with a murmur. “Much better.”

“You are a ridiculous creature.”

“At least I admit to it.”

“Yes, you practically flaunt it.”

The mage smirked a little, then froze slightly. “Am I... sorry, I know Aesir aren’t usually this, uhm... tactile?”

“I don’t mind it,” Sif said. “I have seen you among your kin, and have seen Jotunns among their clans, since the thaw. It no longer strikes me as odd, any longer.”

“Except in Asgard, I guess.”

“Not among those who travel more broadly, and bring their experiences back home with them,” the shield-maiden murmured. “Things in Asgard do change slowly, especially matters of formality, but for those who are looking for it, change is in progress, and it is all, bizarrely, Loki we have to thank for it.”

“Yeah. Here in Midgard we just call it ‘innovation’ you see.”

“Of course, _Miss Stark_.”

“It is my legal name, here, you know.”

“I do,” Sif admitted.

“Although in Alfheim, these days, they call me Pepperssdottir, which I think is fabulous, honestly,” Nadía added.

Sif giggled a little at that, feeling vaguely tipsy, warm, and comfortable as she sank a bit further into the couch. If it brought her closer to Nadía as well, so that they were cuddling slightly, it didn’t seem to matter. It was comforting, even despite the scents of battle lingering on their skin, but even so she could smell the faint autumn-leaves scent of Nadía herself, mixed with traces of rosemary and warm honeycomb.

“For an Aesir, you’re very cuddly,” the mage pointed out.

“Habitual abstaining from such things out of propriety doesn’t actually mean we don’t enjoy being close to others.”

“I know. My uncle is Thor, you may recall.”

At that, Sif gave an amused, conciliatory hum.

When exactly she fell asleep there, the shield-maiden could never quite recall. She was only aware of waking up there the next morning, under a warm blanket, to the sounds of Nadía and Steve bickering loudly while making an elaborate breakfast in the nearby kitchen. It didn’t occur to her to be embarrassed by it, but thinking about it later did make her feel... happier, whenever it occurred to her.

She tried not to dwell upon it, once she and her three fellow Aesir returned to Asgard not long after breakfast.

Nadía, for her part, might have been staring out the window over the balcony for a long while after they left. If there was a blanket about her shoulders, at the time, which had previously been on the couch, and happened to smell a bit of evergreen, sun-warmed leather, cinnamon and wild thyme, much like a certain goddess... well, that had absolutely no bearing on anything. Not at all.

She pulled it a little tighter around her and closed her eyes to inhale a little more deeply, and just enjoy the illusion for a few moments.

“So,” Natasha said over her shoulder. “Sif, huh?”

“Oh, don’t I wish, honey,” Nadía said, her eyes falling open and a carefree smirk fixing into the “on” position.

The assassin hummed, amused. “She likes you, though.”

“I can’t tell if it’s as a pupil or if I’m in some sort of sister-in-arms position, but it’s not that kind of affection,” the mage murmured, her expression smoothing into indifference, and her voice sounding like she had come to terms with it a long time ago.

“You want it to be more?”

“You have eyes, Nat. You tell me?”

“That’s not the only ‘more’ I’m talking about, here.”

Nadía shot her a disbelieving look. “Seriously?”

“How long exactly...” the spy started.

The mage finished her tea in one gulp. “Drop it, please. I’m really, really trying to get past this crush, okay?”

Natasha looked at her seriously for a few seconds, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Thanks.”

“Just keep in mind... you’re older now.”

“Not to someone as old as Sif, trust me. It’s an Aesir thing.” Nadía waved it off.

Natasha considered pointing out Jane’s age, and Pepper’s age when Loki first became involved with her and Tony Stark even, but kept mum. Thor had explained before that mortals are considered different, exceptions to certain rules, based on the length of their life-spans.

The spy had to wonder about two kids like the Stark twins, who grew up with a foot in each world: mortal and nigh-immortal both. Nadía especially had spent more than half of her life on earth, with the remainder divided up between Asgard and Jotunnheim primarily, with one year or so total spent in Nifelheim and another in Alfheim. Jotunn heritage and cultural inclinations aside, Nadía was the most human in her family, aside from Pepper herself. Natasha considered bringing it up, but saw the determined head-shake the young mage gave herself as she walked away to go wash out her teacup, and remained silent. If it was just a crush, Nadía could get past it, the assassin knew. If not... time alone would tell.

 

~~

 

Sif knew it was inevitable. She had eyes, after all, and enough appreciation of the female form to more than easily discern that Nadía was easy on them. At five-and-twenty years of age now, she was tall and willowy when relaxed, and whip-quick in battle, striking out like a snake. Nadía was elegant, deadly, and her smile could light up a room, even if it happened to be slightly blood-stained at the time.

Fandral was watching her spar with her brother when Sif approached to observe them herself. It had been a few years, by then, since Nadía had finished her training with the elder mage Lady Hlín and Firas had intensified his own, as more of his gifts for magic awoke rather late, given his heritage. It was much more common to see Firas about Asgard those days, than his sister, and Sif had missed... the challenge.

Firas didn’t have his sister’s height and reach, quite, and he was not quite as fast, but he had brute force on his side and was very adept at aiming it in all the right places with just the right leverage to twist and unbalance or injure. They fought like Thor and Loki had used to, before the Thunderer had been given Mjolnir, when he had used more precision weapons for close-combat.

Keeping low to the ground and trying his best of off-balance his sister, Firas was a sturdy force, and provided a steady onslaught, which Nadía more often than not danced around, never quite letting herself be cornered. When she resorted to leaping over him and he surged up in wolf-shape to snatch her from the air, she wrapped both legs around his neck with a twist and pressed the tip of each practice-blade so they rested uncomfortably against his hastily-shut eyelids.

“You yield,” Nadía said, breathing hard. It wasn’t a question.

“I do, I do. Please get those off my eyes,” Firas grumbled.

She lifted them away and dismounted with surprising grace, long legs letting go as she leaned off to one side, caught herself with both hands knuckles-down, maintaining grip on both weapons, before she flipped upright quickly.

Her brother returned to his more natural form and they bowed to each other.

Applause broke out, and Sif realized belatedly that she and Fandral were far from the only ones watching. On the other side of the ring was a crowd, including the other two of the Warriors Three, the rounder of whom was inviting both fighters our for drinks at the nearest tavern.

“They have grown quite astonishing, have they not?” Fandral mused.

“They were always astonishing, really,” Sif responded. “Though they have grown up quite well, and continue to impress.”

“Come to the tavern with us, then. Let them impress you further. I’m sure the young Firas has already made at least an attempt.”

“No, he hasn’t,” the shield-maiden sighed. “He knows better.”

“He is not handsome enough for you?” the blond warrior challenged.

“He has yet to be a challenge to me, in a fight.”

“Unlike his sister, then.” He raised an eyebrow at her, then. “Has _she_ made any attempts on your virtue?”

“It’s I who would besmirch hers, Fandral. I’m hardly a year younger than her father, and you should also consider, before you even contemplate an _attempt_ of your own, of any kind, that she also has her uncle wrapped around her little finger.”

He raised both hands in a signal of harmlessness. “Me?”

She glared at him.

Because really, Sif knew it was inevitable.

Just over an hour later, in the tavern, the inevitable occurred. Fandral had made his way to Nadía’s side slowly over the past half-hour. Sif tried not to watch, not wanting to see the familiar play, except that something about the too-sharp smile on the young mage’s face didn’t seem so familiar.

Fandral returned the smile at first, and it widened when Nadía leaned in close to whisper something in his ear.

Slowly, the brightness of the blond warrior’s smile dimmed like a fading gas-flame, his eyes widening with dawning horror and dismay.

As soon as she leaned away, Fandral politely excused himself and left the tavern with impressive haste, almost knocking over a serving wench on his way out.

Sif’s eyebrows raised, and morbid curiosity led her to occupy the place near Nadía so very-recently vacated, and asked, “What in the world did you say to him?”

The young mage smiled up at her slyly. “Just something my mother taught me.”

“I suddenly have even deeper respect for Lady Pepper.”

Nadía giggled only a bit evilly; she was bright and warm-hearted in her mirth, even when it was quite wicked.

Fandral made no attempts to flirt with her, after that first time.

 

~~

 

Two days later, Sif found herself on the ground with Nadía’s practice-blade resting across her throat. Slightly stunned, she blinked up at the younger woman and said, in impressed tones, “I yield.”

Firas was watching from the side of the pit. His mouth was hanging open, a bit of half-chewed apple on display before he hastily swallowed. “Holy _shit_!”

Looking equally stunned and a little wide-eyed herself, Nadía continued to stare, unmoving. “You... didn’t _let_ me win.”

“I did not.”

“You _really_ must be low on challenging sparring partners, without me around.”

“They lack your youthful endurance, certainly,” Sif agreed, smiling a little. “You _did_ get lucky. I know what mistake I made. I will not make it again.”

“Good.” Nadía nodded, smiling. She nodded toward Sif’s sword where it lay on the ground, stepping back and falling into position to start anew. “Then let’s try it again, and we’ll see,” echoing the older goddess’ words from their first match.

Sif picked up her lost blade, grip tightening on the one that had gotten caught under her opponent’s boot moments before. Breathing hard, eyes fire-bright, she rose to her feet again and smiled a war-like smile. “Yes. Again.”

Both of them ignored the enthusiastic, “WHOOO!” from Firas.

They crashed together harder, that time, newfound determination in every line of their bodies as they circled and and attacked, ducked and dove and parried and riposted, in twin blurs of leather and non-lethal enchanted blades.

It lasted a small eternity, full of the chime and harsh percussion of scrapes and near-misses and hard blows narrowly missing, scratching along armor or tearing a bit of cloth. Sif hadn’t been so focused on a fight in a very long time, drawing on tricks she hadn’t had to use in decades, to put Nadía even a little off-balance, and even then she was never unbalanced for too long, and had tricks of her own that kept Sif from getting the upper hand entirely, for a very long while.

At some point, Sif became dimly aware of murmurs coming from all sides, a not-so-faint susurration that suggested a decent-sized crowd watching them. It occurred to her that the sun was lower, by about an hour.

Had it really only been an hour?

“Not weary yet, are you, darling?” Nadía panted, her bicolor eyes full of laughter and pleased aggression.

“Not on your life,” the shield-maiden shot back, lashing out again.

Again, the younger warrior met her, deflected, rebounded her attacks.

Cheers intermittently broke out around them, but after an initial surprised second that almost got her knocked to the ground, Nadía ignored the crowds entirely, once more narrowing her focus entirely onto Sif, who grinned fiercely at her and lashed out even harder. Twice more, the younger warrior got the upper hand, and could not keep it. One last time, she seemed about to take her mentor down as before, only for the older warrior to twist, dislocating her own wrist in the process, but getting leverage with her other arm to push hard forward, and sweep Nadía’s feet out from under her, both of them cursing: Sif at the pain in her wrist, her opponent with a freshly-twisted ankle.

Landing in a crouch over her pupil, blade across her throat, Sif smiled down at her, still deeply impressed. “You yield.”

Her opponent nodded. “I yield.”

Rising to her feet, Sif tossed her remaining blade up toward Firas, who caught it. “Take care of those will you?” she asked.

The shape-shifter nodded quickly. “Yeah. Definitely.”

The shield-maiden then half-sidestepped and held out her good hand toward the younger warrior now just sitting up.

Nadía took her hand, letting her mentor pull her back to her feet, wincing a little when she tried to put weight on her hurt ankle. “You got me good.”

“Along with myself,” Sif concurred, holding up her damaged wrist. “It was the only way I could take you down, however. You’ve gotten quite good.”

“Get me out of here, and I can do a bit of healing.”

“Deal,” the shield-maiden concurred.

 

Of course, external layers of armor shed, and the both of them seated on the wooden bench outside the bathing chambers set aside for warriors after matches, Sif belatedly recalled the last occasion she had been aware of Nadía occupying this location. She tried very, very hard not to think about that, as the younger warrior cradled her wrist, magic crawling up along her skin like whispers out from Nadía’s every fingertip, as healing magics pulsed through muscles and tendons, mending them and easing pain. The redhead’s hands were a little less soft than most mages, from wielding Asgardian and Jotunn weapons in combat practice.

Sif didn’t mind slightly rough hands. No, not at all.

She cut off that train of thought entirely when Nadía’s hands retreated and she bent one long leg up onto the bench to examine her own ankle with a hiss.

“Need a hand?”

“I need a lot of things,” Nadía murmured, then thought about it. “If you can hold this in position, so nothing gets further messed up as I heal it, that would be lovely.”

Sif stood, and took ahold of her bare calf in one hand, carefully putting the other hand under the outer edge of her foot to support it. She froze, hearing the younger woman’s sharp intake of breath. “Like this?”

“It’s going to hurt me, a bit, but I need you to tilt that slightly to your left.”

Slowly, the shield-maiden did so.

Nadía didn’t flinch, but the muscles of her jaw visibly tightened. “Yep. I was right, that hurts. Just... give me a second.” She reached out then, and her fingers settled against her own skin. Her eyes fell shut as she focused on her task.

Sif watched bruising and discoloration begin to fade after a few seconds and smiled a little. When the flow of magic halted, she glanced up in time to see the younger warrior’s gold lashes flutter a little before her lids lifted. Their eyes met and Nadía blushed slightly and cleared her throat.

For just a moment, Sif considered letting her fingers explore a bit more pale skin, working their way slowly upward. It was only centuries of experience keeping her self-control in check which kept her from responding at all outwardly, aside from a slightly-apologetic smile. “Better?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Nadía said quietly, gently tugging her ankle away.

The shield-maiden lowered her hands. “I’m glad.”

The silence that followed was moderately awkward.

“I think I require a soak, actually” Sif said, gesturing toward the public bath in the next room. “I’ll just...”

“I... have to... see my brother,” Nadía said, a bit hesitantly. Her pupils might have dilated slightly. A quick spell returned most of her clothing, and vanished the extra bits of armor-plating she didn’t need. “I’ll just... go.” She stood, bowed deeply, and began backing away with haste. “Lovely fight today, we should do that again. Seriously lovely. You’re lovely. I’m leaving now.” She then slipped out the door and vanished.

The older woman stared after her a few moments, trying to put her thoughts into order. That Nadía was flustered had been clear, but she wasn’t sure how much of it was simply... Well, after a battle quite that intense, Sif herself was known to be a bit...

Which, surely, was why she had felt a similar... desire

Sif finished removing the rest of her clothing, picked up a couple of folded towels, and strode out into the thankfully-moslty-empty bathing chamber. There were a few of the guards at the other end of the large, heated pool, but they knew from experience to pay her no mind as she sunk into the water and leaned against the side, feeling her muscles begin to relax under the heat.

Idly, she wondered if Nadía was more sensitive to hot water, if she wasn’t in her icier form, or if perhaps the cold that form brought with it might make heat less bothersome than to Aesir. This led to thoughts of cold, slightly-rough fingers trailing over her skin, in contrast to the hot water, and she shivered.

Then her eyes snapped open and she slowly sunk down into the water until it covered her from the upper-lip down. The hot water, at least, was a less conspicuous reason for her face to suddenly be so very red.

_I cannot believe I just had that thought._

And yet, as she considered it, the thought really wasn’t unappealing.

It just worried her deeply, as desiring a friend tended to.

She realized, belatedly, that she counted Nadía as a friend, along with all of the feelings of loyalty and affection that she usually gave to comrades-in-arms she also enjoyed the company of off of the battle field, anytime they might spend time with her. In that respect, Nadía was better company than... most of the Warriors Three, frankly. Less overbearing and more–– _genuinely interesting_.

Sif slowly sunk below the surface of the water until she was completely submerged, swearing silently all the while. She came up after several seconds, leaning back as she ran her fingers through her hair, working out tangles and letting the water carry away the salt of sweat and dirt from the floor of the sparring pit.

After a few minutes, she silently admitted to herself that she might desire to know Nadía Lokissdottir more intimately. On a purely physical level, she was extremely attracted to the girl. Despite her youth, she was also extremely clever, wise beyond the years of some Aesir four times her age, and it showed. She was also full of fierce verve, limitless curiosity, and a warmth of heart that kept itself well-contained within practical emotional armor and well-forged composure.

She was beautiful, and wicked, and selfish without being too unkind. Everything about the woman that should have reminded Sif of Loki and been satisfactorily off-putting was kept in balance by some other factor vastly different: her brashness, her unwillingness to ever hide for long (unless Firas persuaded her to, for the sake of mischief), the brightness of her happiness and her anger and how closely intertwined they could seem to be, like she relished a chance to be properly angry, like she was in a good fight.

Sif again sunk below the surface of the water.

Because it was far, far worse than she had realized.

She wanted Nadía.

She really _wanted_ her. Not for a night, not even for passionate sessions after sparring, to work out their remaining aggressions until finally sated with each other.

Those, she realized as she thought more and more about the matter, would not be enough. And suddenly the idea of ever possibly finding her in the adjacent chamber with Valkyrie again made her want to punch something.

This... This was bad. Surely.

 

~~

 

Nadía didn’t appear again in Asgard for over three years.

She had gotten a call from one of her oldest friends in Jotunnheim, and left with all haste. Even her parents couldn’t hunt her down, when all contact with her was lost after the first six months. Firas went to Jotunnheim thereafter and hunted her for the next six months thereafter.

He didn’t return willingly. He was brought back to Asgard by the First of the Three of Nifelheim, who demanded access to their healing rooms. The shape-shifter had been badly poisoned, and remained delirious for days before the healers could get it wholly out of his system.

When he awoke, he insisted that his sister was alive, but when Loki suggested his own trip to Jotunnheim, his son grabbed him by both shoulders and demanded he keep away.

“It’s you they hurt me for, father. They poisoned me because... there are tribes, several, made up of those who lost a lot of family when you attacked their world,” Firas insisted. “They aren’t on her trail yet, and I don’t think she’s using your name, nothing I found suggests as much. They don’t know she’s yours, or mine, or any of ours, and that’s why she’s still alive and safe. I didn’t catch on as quick as she did, to that.”

“How are you so sure she’s alive?” Loki hissed.

“She called me,” said Hretha, First of the three, as she rested a hand on his shoulder. “Your daughter is strong, and she does what she believes must be done, for the sake of her friends, there. She is loyal and braver than you know. Trust that she will return to you, when she is done.”

For the next two years, there was near-silence, except that occasionally, messengers from here and there throughout Jotunnheim, would bring an oddly coded message or two before king Býleistr every few months. His lover had been the first able to decode them, and immediately sent word to Loki, each time such a message appeared.

“She’s still alive. She’s sent word of that, but nothing more.”

Such messages came in every few months.

After the third such letter, Firas had approached Lady Sif, coming to a halt a few paces behind her, while she patiently sharpened the blade of her preferred spear.

“She’s been sending word,” he said.

She stilled. “Pardon?”

“Look... I heard that you’ve been out kicking the asses of raiders throughout the nine realms for about nine straight months, to the point there were so few left, Vanaheim and Alfheim both sent Odin requests specifically for him to send someone to take you home, because you were scaring them a little when you got too impatient for the next bands of raiders to come in––which, by the way, they _still haven’t_. That suggests that either they’re all dead or locked up now thanks to you, or you genuinely terrified the remainder into lying low until they’re more certain you won’t leap at the chance to disembowel some more of them.”

The shield-maiden slowly turned her head to glare at him.

He held up both hands in a gesture of intended harmlessness. “She’s alive. That’s all. Got any other questions to ease your... honestly pretty terrifying rage you’re glaring at me with right now?”

Sif sighed. “‘She is probably alive’ is all that anyone has been able to tell me all this time. She is one of few friends whose company I really enjoy, to such a degree I have not yet discovered the duration of time it takes me to grow annoyed with her.”

Firas raised an eyebrow. “I’m guessing each of the Warriors Three have time-limits?”

She nodded. “Just so. And so do you, but I’m willing to suspend it, if you actually explain to me what she’s doing, and why it would be a bad idea for any Aesir warriors to seek to aid her.”

He nodded. “Okay. I can do that. Tavern?”

“Yes. I get the distinct feeling that we will both need drinks, for this.”

Once he explained Nadía’s childhood friendship with one of the children of Býleistr’s chief diplomatic advisors, how the pair had began to exchange knowledge as they both learned mage-craft from different cultures and broke down some of the barriers between over the years as they both grew to become powerful mages, Sif began to understand why Nadía had disappeared immediately after finding out her friend was in trouble.

“But what sort of trouble?”

Firas sighed. “We still don’t know. I’ve got a few guesses, none of them really pleasant. There’s the political stuff on the surface, with some warring tribes that hate uncle Býleistr for making deals with father, and Asgard, and want to resist or even actively rebel against Nifelheim, but there’s more to it. There’s something I think her friend found, an artifact or a cult, I dunno, that’s deep in that territory, making things worse and making itself stronger. I couldn’t tell what it was. By the time I got in deep enough to discern even that much, just as the only maybe-plausible theory I had left, I slipped up and they figured out who I was, and I got poisoned.”

“That, I do recall hearing about,” Sif murmured. “You worried us all.”

“Aww, it’s like you care.”

She glared at him a little. “Believe it or not, I do, boy.”

Firas blinked. “Really?”

Rolling her eyes, she sighed at him. “Yes. I do. You are kin to Thor, and to Nadía, and your family is vital to peace throughout the realms these days, and you yourself have a higher time-limit for my ability to stand you than most men aside from Hogun.”

Blinking a bit more, Firas seemed momentarily at a loss. “Oh. Wow. Thank you. I was just content to think of you as awesome and scary-attractive from afar, and sort of envy how easily Nadía gets along with you despite having a major crush on you forever and WHY AM I STILL TALKING?!” He covered his mouth with both hands.

Sif finished her mead in two large pulls. “I’m sorry,” she said lightly, “What?”

“Forget... most of that. Please forget it. She _will_ kill me. Actually, knowing her, I will wish she had the mercy to kill me instead of doing whatever it is she will actually do to me, please Sif, don’t make me face a fate worse than death. I’m too young and devastatingly attractive to suffer like-” He stopped abruptly when she slapped him.

“Are you done?”

“Yes, thanks.” He rubbed the side of his face with a wince. “Damn, did you have to hit so hard? My ears are ringing.”

“Yes. I did.”

He looked at her a bit nervously. “Seriously, though. Don’t... just don’t. She’s been trying to get over you for a long time, and she would be really embarrassed, and I’ll be worse than dead. Please.”

“Get... over me?” Sif was at a loss.

“Well, I mean––you’re not exactly... attainable? Or attracted to her? She thought?” 

The shield-maiden just barely managed not to laugh hysterically. Her chest ached. “Oh.”

Firas leaned away from her suddenly. “No fucking way.”

She rolled her eyes. “She’s far too young,” she said, a bit reflexively.

The shape-shifter was not to easily put off the scent. “Sounds like you’ve told yourself that a lot, maybe?”

Sif punched him.

He hit the floor in a heap.

“I’m not _wrong_ , then!” he wheezed victoriously.

Sif took a deep breath, and let it out. Then she took two more. By the time she finished, Firas was back atop his stool, looking at her with a mix of wariness and shrewdness. She glared at him.

“Defensive, much?”

She kept glaring.

“Look, I have to ask: do you like my sister in a sexual way?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never touched her in that manner.”

“Do you want to?”

“I’ve considered it.”

Firas’ eyebrows raised. He whistled.

“Stop that, or I will punch you again, and much harder.”

He waved a hand toward her fist, as though trying to sooth it by petting the distance between it and himself, like that would keep that distance in place. “Yeah, let’s, not, please... I’ll stop.”

Sif relaxed her fist and waved to a serving wench for another round.

“So... you... were interested, upon finding out she has a crush on you?”

“I... thought she might. I was not aware it had been for very long.”

“Are you kidding?” Firas asked dully. “You’re not kidding. Wow, you... need to work on being observant with her, before I can approve this being a thing.”

Sif shot him an incredulous, slightly offended look.

“My sister, has had a crush on you, since she first saw you,” he said flatly.

The shield-maiden felt something within her stomach flutter at first with something like flattery and hope, only for it to clench and turn to lead at the deeper implications. “Oh,” she said quietly. “A... childhood infatuation.”

“Yeah. Hence her trying to get over it for... a while. Not very successfully,” Firas said quietly. “She cares about you. It’s not––she knows you as her friend, her mentor, and someone she really respects. She’s just also always had this butterflies-in-her-stomach thing that happens when you pay attention to her or compliment her, and she gets easily embarrassed around you in ways that otherwise _never_ apply in other situations with other people because she’s actually pretty shameless, but you sort of make her want to be better, and more like the way you see her, I guess, maybe. She’s just sort of spent years telling herself it’s nothing she can have, so be––just be aware of that. Also, it’s been so long since I’ve seen her now and... all sorts of things might be different, when she finally manages to come back to us.”

Sif’s lips thinned. She still wanted to go to Jotunnheim herself, dangers and other perils be damned, but Firas’ earlier point––the same he had made to Loki, that looking for her themselves would only bring the attentions of others to her, putting her in greater danger––had stuck with her. If her own meddling got Nadía hurt...

The thought alone made her feel a bit ill.

“I understand,” she said softly.

“How, uhm, interested are you in her? Can I ask that?”

“Very,” she admitted.

“What were you hoping for, exactly?”

“Oh... just everything. Not that I was aware of that until shortly before she left.”

Firas’ expression fell. “You’re serious.”

Sif nodded.

“Oh.”

They both finished their respective drinks swiftly in the ensuing awkward silence.

“I am really, really sorry your timing sucks,” he told her, with feeling.

“So am I. I never meant to cause her any-”

He raised a hand to stop her, waving off her concern. “You weren’t even aware of it. Maybe you were, a bit, but you dismissed it as the usual hero-worship you’re a bit more used to from the younger people you train up around here?”

“I... did.”

“Well. Nadía is Nadía. She’s always a bit out of the norm.”

“Yes. I rather like that about her.”

Firas glanced at her with a bit more approval, then, and nodded to her. “Then you might still have a chance. It’ll just... need a lot of patience.”

“She’s worth that.”

“Nice one. Smooth.”

“I mean it,” Sif insisted.

“I know, I know.” Firas shook his head. “You... do know she and I... we can’t exactly life Mjolnir. Well, she did once, in an emergency and she was scared half to death that Thor was about to die and somehow she managed to use it long enough to prevent that, but usually she can’t even get it off the ground, same as me, and same as our dad, and our father.” He flagged someone down to silently request another round for them both.

“You think I can, most days?” the shield-maiden huffed. “No one with a respectable degree of my sort of bloodlust really can, I don’t think.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. “No wonder you like Nadía.”

She smirked a little. “Yes.”

 

~~

 

When Nadía returned from her ventures in Jotunnheim, it was with a fury.

She appeared in the middle of the throne room, in light travel garb that left her arms and shoulders bare, but the rest mostly covered. Armed to the teeth with different blades (and a few explosives) strapped about her person, some device strapped to her back which had a functional arc-reactor embedded in it, and a short blade-tipped spear in one hand, she also wore her blue skin and the air around her was chill as Jotunnheim’s southernmost pole.

“ _All-Father King, Odin Borsson_ ,” she roared. “You need to _stop leaving random artifacts of immeasurable power on unsuspecting worlds for your own convenience_!”

Every guard in the room had pivoted and aimed their weapons at her.

She looked at every one of the nearest ones and beckoned them forward with her free hand and a slightly cracked, fearsome smile. He teeth, like much of her skin and light armor, was smeared with blood. At least the blood in her teeth was less like slush. “You want to play, boys and girls? You really want to do that with me, right now?” There was a glint from between her thumb and forefinger: a purple stone the size of a large quail egg.

“Stand down!” Odin bellowed.

Weapons retreated.

Nadía marched forward, bristling with anger and tiny spikes of ice along the outer edges of her arms. She had arrived during a full court session, and there were many eyes upon her.

Sif had been near the throne, discussing training regimens with the captain of the royal guard, and had frozen in place as soon as she had heard that familiar voice, her skin prickling as adrenaline flooded her system at the sound of that much rage. She remained frozen, until Nadía began her march, at which point the shield-maiden found the strength to move her legs and propel herself forward until she stood between two of the guards. She got a good look at her friend as the young mage passed, without even glancing away from the glare she kept trained upon Odin.

Standing at the foot of the throne, Nadía raised her not-so-empty-as-it-looked free hand, and displayed the purple stone she carried. It glowed dimly.

“You did not think to mention to anyone, All-Father, that with the ice of Jotunnheim at last melting, this might rise to the surface or sink below a renewed ocean _where it might be found and exploited anew?_ ” Nadía snarled. “You had every opportunity, throughout the duration of _my entire life and years before it_ , to share this information, and instead you have waited here, on your throne, for someone in Jotunnheim to find it _for you_ , for madness and chaos to strike their already barely-recovering world, and you consider yourself a _worthy king_? You who hid _multiple infinity stones_ from your vaults throughout the rest of the realms, two of which had already re-emerged in the form of the _Tesseract_ and the _Aether_ , did not think to mention the _Space Gem_ was buried beneath miles of ice in Jotunnheim?!”

The whole of the court was silent.

Nadía breathed hard, glaring at the stricken-looking monarch. “What say you, Odin? What say you to your own failures _this time_?”

Sif had never heard the girl sound more like her father than in that spiteful phrase, and winced.

“I... am sorry. I thought it buried far enough in the ice, at the very _poles_ -”

“ _Not a good enough excuse for not telling my kin that it was there_ ,” the young mage declared. “It was there. It would be found by Jotunns, you know how powerful their magics are, how much older than Asgard.” She tossed the Space gem up in the air and caught it in her fist, then pointed at him accusingly. “You rule all of the nine realms, in various ways, by virtue of Asgard’s being unassailable by them, lest the whole of Yggdrasil be thrown out of balance and the protection of life and stability it provides to all within it be lost, leaving us all isolated and vulnerable. You should _trust your neighbors_ , lest they decide they can no longer trust _you_.” She shook her head as the court filled with so many urgent whispers that it almost rumbled with them, like very distant thunder. Louder, she continued, “I recommend you abdicate and tell all of such secrets as these to my dear uncle, because I, for one, do not trust you even a tenth of the distance I might throw you, and I am _deeply_ relieved to know that _you and I_ have never been _kin by blood_.” She spun on her heel, facing all of the court. “Your king is grown mad, Asgard. Do with him as you will. I, for one, will take this stolen relic, and give it to powers I _do_ trust. Fare all of you well, save for one,” she declared, with one last glance back toward Odin before she vanished into thin air.

Sif ran from the hall as fast as she possibly could.

She almost ran headlong into Firas, who was headed in the opposite direction, and scarcely had the presence of mind to grab him by the back of the neck. “She’s gone, Firas!”

He struggled blindly for a second, then stopped. “But I only just-”

“She has an artifact that apparently allows her easy travel between realms. It’s an Infinity Stone.”

Firas inhaled sharply. “Son of a bitch.” He spun around, loosening himself from her grip and seizing both of her shoulders urgently. “Did she mention where she was going?”

“To give it to powers she does trust, instead of Odin,” she responded.

“Nifelheim,” he breathed. “Nifelheim. That’s it. She’ll give it to the Three. It’s safer out there, the fuck-all away from everyone, and they already have a source of infinite power they don’t use for horrible purposes, it’s perfect, I’m going to-” He paused himself. “Stay here. Not me, stay, but you. You should stay. Yes. Do that.”

“But she just-”

“ _Sif_.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Please. Our family... You know how we need to be with her. We need time with her.”

She nodded sharply. “Right. Yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I know. You’re worried too, and you actually... you _saw her_ OH SHIT DID SHE LOOK OKAY?” He was suddenly almost shaking her in his pursuit of answers.

“She was whole, and blue, and covered in blood, but most of the blood didn’t seem to be hers,” Sif said quickly. “Go to Loki, get him to take you to Nifelheim if she hasn’t yet come home by the time you reach him.” She pulled his hands off of her. “Go, go now.”

“Right, yes, thank you, running!” he yelped, and took off in wolf-shape, running far faster, headed for the rainbow bridge.

Sif stumbled backwards until her back met a pillar to the left of one of the doors. She slid down it until she sat on the ground, eyes closed, breathing hard.

Nadía was alive. And so incandescently angry with Odin...

Frightening as that had been, on some levels, the shield-maiden had also never seen anything more beautiful in her entire life, and every accusation the young mage had leveled at the All-Father had been valid, and severe. Distantly, she could hear shouts and chaos beginning to break out amongst increasingly passionate arguments in the throne room and surrounding halls.

Sif would go to great lengths to have seen Loki’s face, had he been in the throne room during his daughter’s tirade. She would have to tell him about it, sometime, she knew. He would glow with a sort of malevolent pride, and ache and anger all at once, she was certain.

Recalling briefly that Loki was, in his own way, a sort of stolen relic of Jotunnheim, Sif winced and recalled again that she was something of a fool, where he was concerned. She would have to improve on that. She would have to get much, much better at observing and reading people...

Especially if she wanted to stand any chance of winning the heart of the beautiful creature she had just seen verbally flaying the king of Asgard.

 

~~

 

Asgard became chaos within a month’s time.

Loki returned with his kin in tow, and the trickster managed, with a few pointed speeches, to stop riots in three places that had been ongoing for days. Along with him stood his lovers, his youngest children, Thor, and Dr. Jane Foster, all looking wan yet determined. They made their way on foot to the palace, letting their arrival soak into the whole of the city by word of mouth, and letting everyone who would dare throw stones have their chance, and find themselves too cowardly to dare take it.

Once in the palace, Loki led the way, his brother and sister-in-law directly behind him, and the rest of his family fanned out behind them, providing support and possibly protection, even as they reached the foot of the steps leading up to Odin’s throne.

“Your realm is in chaos, All-Father,” Loki said. “I think it time for you to step down, and I am hardly the only one.”

“Who would you enthrone, then, given a choice, Loki?” asked the All-Father, sounding incredibly weary.

“Your son and heir,” the trickster responded. “He can take the throne, and as queen, Dr. Jane Foster now being a powerful mage in her own right, can take over maintenance of the balance of Yggdrasil, along with my aid. It remains only for you to step down, and crown the new king.”

Whispers and occasional shouts arose from the court, and from outside.

Odin rose to his feet and strode down the steps of the throne to meet them. He stared into Loki’s eyes for several long moments, and then Thor’s. He tipped his spear into a more horizontal position, and held it up in both hands.

Dutifully, the trickster stepped back, and Thor and Jane stepped forward. Hands clasped, they knelt, heads bowed.

The same oath Odin had once asked of his son during another coronation attempt, long ago, passed his lips again.

Thor and Jane both accepted.

When prompted, they raised their clasped hands and both took hold of the spear on either side of Odin’s hands, as Loki lowered one hand to rest on Jane’s shoulder.

Power flooded through all of them, Loki and Odin guiding it, and stabilizing it, as both rulers channeled it, until it eventually hummed solely through Jane, and she grasped it with quickness that frankly shocked Loki and Odin both.

Seeing that, the astrophysicist snorted and shook her head at them. “I’ve been studying Yggdrasil since before I bit into any golden apple. We know each other, she and I,” she mocked.

“So I see,” Odin ceded, appearing chagrinned.

“Impressive as you always are, Dr. Foster,” Loki said softly, and bowed. “Queen of Asgard. I pay my respects to you and your king.” He offered a sweeping gesture, and the rest of his family also bowed. Odin moved to stand beside Loki, bowing with him.

So, too, did everyone else in the room, as both new monarchs slowly rose to their feet. Jane exhaled shakily and Thor glanced at her with a hint of amusement.

“Nooo pressure,” she murmured, and he chuckled.

Loki rose first, followed shortly by his family. Odin followed shortly after, feeling his own age more acutely in the absence of the bond with all of Yggdrasil. He was surprised when the younger trickster rested a hand on his arm and tugged, helping him stand again. They looked one another in the eye.

“You did well, to step down,” Loki said.

“You did well to make me,” Odin returned.

A flicker of shock and something almost akin to concern crossed Loki’s expression. “What will you do now?”

“Wander.”

His former adopted-son nodded. “I will be watching.”

“Will you now?”

“Along with Heimdall. I’ve made certain you will not be able to conceal yourself form him as I do,” Loki assured.

“Are you so suspicious of me.”

“Yes,” the god of lies said, without hesitation. “I have too much at stake to trust you will actually tell Thor everything that I believe he needs to know.”

“I swear to you, I will tell him of everything I have hidden throughout the realms.”

“Good.” Loki nodded to him. “And what you have hidden in Asgard?”

“Yes, I swear.”

“And every lie you have ever told to him, or to me.” His eyes narrowed.

With some hesitation Odin eventually conceded, “Yes, I swear.”

“And to Frigga?”

Odin’s eyes went stony. “No.”

Loki nodded, with a thoughtful ‘give or take’ sort of expression. “That helps, but I’m still going to keep you watched.” He patted the former king’s shoulder a little condescendingly. “Enjoy retirement.” He turned on his heel and strode from the room.

Tony and Pepper watched him, as did their children.

Pepper stepped forward first, and touched Odin’s shoulder as she leaned in and whispered, “You’re lucky, actually. Tony’s idea was to let a revolution start and even introduce Asgard to the guillotine, and you know, I wasn’t going to argue it that hard, but Loki insisted.” She patted his shoulder just as Loki had. “You owe him, for that. Do keep in mind, we’ve been ever so merciful so far, and if _any_ harm comes to my children, or anyone in my family _again_ , because of _you_ , we will hunt you down and make you wish we had mercy enough in our reserves left to kill you, because my daughter could have died thanks to your thoughtlessness, and I’ve never wanted to kill someone more in my life than I wanted to kill _you_ , the moment I found that out.” She pulled back, smiled at him sweetly, and stepped over to congratulate Thor and Jane.

Tony stepped up next. “You look like you just shat a brick, Odin.”

“Your wife is terrifying.”

“Yeah. And she’s the nice one.” When the former king shot him a look intent on discerning his sincerity, Tony responded with a very unkind grin, and a wink. “I wouldn’t step too close to the kids, if I were you. They might maim you a little.” He stepped toward Thor, and Odin, he noted, took a couple of steps so that he was out of arm’s reach when Firas and Nadía followed after.

 

~~

 

Sif wandered the post-coronation feast in a haze of confusion, enthusiasm, and dismay. She had been protecting the most vulnerable members of the civilian populace, in her own city, from each other, for weeks. Now that it was suddenly over, and Thor was king, she was still a bit dazed.

It was hard to turn off the sense of being at war, when the battles had all happened right in the middle of her home. It had been the same when Svartalfheim’s forces had struck. Seeing Thor and his sharp-witted queen moving through the room had made Sif think far too much about Frigga’s funeral, and eventually she retreated to an out-of-the-way hall some distance from the festivities, trying to control her breathing as she struggled to remember what calm felt like.

If only she had been able to sleep, at any time during the past three days as near-violent-revolution shifted into abrupt peace, and the new ruling monarchs proved themselves worthy and competent a dozen times over, just in their approach to the whole process of re-stabilizing the city.

Sleep would have made it more real: to have a marker, for the transition from beginning, to end. Instead, she was so tired she felt like her hands were slow and sticky with blood all over them, even when they weren’t.

“You don’t look so good, Sif.”

The shield-maiden’s eyes snapped open sharply and her heart jumped into her throat. “Nadía...”

“That’s me.” The young mage smiled softly, and the expression seemed a little cooler than it used to be. “It’s been a long time.”

Sif tried to get up and accepted a hand in doing so when Nadía offered. She then immediately wrapped her friend in an embrace before she could hesitate, squeezing hard enough to make both of their breaths hitch for a moment.

“S-sif, are you okay?”

“I was so worried about you, my friend.”

Nadía relaxed a little, hands stroking the shield-maiden’s back soothingly where she returned the embrace. “I’m sorry.”

Pulling back, Sif gripped one of her shoulders and squeezed. “Had I been able to, without endangering you long before I might have reached you, I would have gone after you.”

“What?”

“You have been my pupil and have become my friend; you are one of the only warriors in any of the realms unafraid to face me, time after time, and you _challenge_ me a little more each time. I would fight beside you whenever you might need my strength, you must know that. It is all I have to give, to those I care for, Nadía.” Her smile grew bitter, then.

Nadía opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. Her eyes shone bright and a little watery. “Next time, I’ll invite you. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Sif said. Another wave of tiredness hit her, along with a tightness in her chest. She looked around sharply. “Did you hear something?”

The young mage looked at her more sharply, then. “Sif, you’re breathing...”

“I’m fine. I just... do not do well, when I fight within my own home. It is harder, afterwards, to feel as though it is over properly,” she whispered, though she hadn’t told another soul even that much, before. “I should... I need to...” She startled a little when Nadía backed her up until she was leaning back against the nearest wall.

“Easy,” she said. “Focus on me.”

“What are you doing?” Sif asked.

“Right... Aesir. Look, what you’re experiencing right now is actually pretty common, and I’ve seen them kind of a lot.”

“Them?”

“Sif, you’re having a panic-attack, or you were. You might be starting a second one. I heard you breathing like this when I showed up, but you stopped it for a while, or it’s possible you suppressed it, briefly.”

“Suppressed,” Sif admitted. “How... do the people you know usually cope with this?”

“My guess is you usually hide somewhere and freak out until it passes?”

The older warrior nodded.

“That’s one way, but it can lead to self-destructive behavior, in a lot of cases, among other things.” Feeling Sif stiffen, but seeing no actual surprise in her expression, Nadía swallowed tightly and tried not to think about that overmuch. “Focus on me, Sif. Look at me. You’re nowhere near a battlefield, right now. You’re wearing silk, and not even a little bit of blood. You’re in the palace, with me, and there’s a party. Can you hear the music coming down the hall?”

“Of course I can hear-”

“Describe it.”

Sif huffed. “Lute, and harp, and...” She flinched at the percussion. It sounded too much like cracking bones suddenly.

“Eyes open, Sif.”

She refocused on the woman in front of her, and felt herself blush. They were very close, and it should’ve felt lovely, but––sadly, it didn’t, just then. “You’re... too close,  I’m, sorry.”

Nadía only nodded, and put a few more inches of distance, enough that cooler air flowed between them, then a bit more, but didn’t let go of her. “Is touching still okay?”

Sif nodded. “Don’t let go.”

The younger woman smiled a little faintly. “You’re more like dad, then.”

“What?” He brow furrowed.

“I learned this at home. All of us have some nightmares, but dad’s, and father’s, tend to be the worst. You’re having a pretty mild attack, compared to some they’ve had, after some of their worst of those.”

Sif relaxed a little. Somehow, knowing it wasn’t just her, knowing it was... other warriors, and even the likes of Loki... she felt less weak, knowing that. “I see...”

“Can you control your breathing more?”

She nodded.

Nadía took one of Sif’s hands and placed it on her own ribcage. “Try to breathe in time with me, okay?”

For a few minutes, they did so, until Nadía had their breathing in sync, and then began to very deliberately make her own slower and deeper. Sif followed, a few seconds after each change, and slowly came back down.

“I am... incredibly exhausted.”

“You don’t look like you’ve gotten much sleep lately,” Nadía said, her voice low and warmer again, more like herself as Sif remembered her.

“Yes, you mentioned I don’t look my best, exactly.”

“Well, you look stunning, but you always look stunning. You just look stunning... and very sleep-deprived,” her former pupil suggested.

“I haven’t slept since the morning Odin stepped down.”

“Well damn,” Nadía muttered. “I am taking you to your house, and you are going to bed.”

“But there’s the-”

“Ah! No! You need sleep much more than that party needs _either_ of us right now.”

“But, Nadía-”

“Nope.”

They then both abruptly vanished.

 

~~

 

Reappearing in Sif’s quarters, near her bed, Nadía felt immediately awkward.

She had managed to avoid that all evening so far, and had been terribly proud of herself. Now she stood, still holding Sif in place by her shoulders, one of the shield-maiden’s hands still at her own waist, and Sif was in a relatively thin silk dress, and there was a bed, and how did this happen?

Nadía cleared her throat softly and murmured a spell, causing the lamps in the room to flare to life.

Faced again with the bone-deep tiredness on Sif’s face, Nadía’s nerves vanished under genuine concern again.

“I get the feeling you maybe don’t want to sleep in that dress?”

Sif laughed a bit thinly. “Well, yes, but I’m capable of removing it myself.”

“Right. Good.” Nadía let her go gently.

Leaning in to kiss her forehead, the older warrior said, “Thank you, Nadía.”

“It’s, uhm...”

“And if you are not prepared to spar tomorrow, I shall be deeply disappointed.”

Helplessly, Nadía grinned up at her, full of fire again as she always felt about battle, but particularly battle with Sif involved: fun battle, exhilarating and challenging and perfect. “Rest up, or I won’t have much of a challenge even if I do.”

“Oh yes you will.”

“I’ll hold you do it, Sif. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Sif said, and watched her vanish.

“I am,” she said to the empty air a full minute later, “ridiculous.” She then collapsed into her bed with a huff of deep frustration and began to fitfully struggle her way out of her dress.

 

~~

 

They sparred every day for the next week.

Nadía had only gotten tougher, and more guarded, for all her time spent in Jotunnheim, but her style remained otherwise as it had been: sly, blindingly fast, adaptable, and creative.

All the matches that day, Sif had won by only a hair, each time.

The next day, Nadía floored her within the first match, and pressed the point of her practice blade right against her heart.

“That,” she panted down at her mentor, “wasn’t luck.”

“It wasn’t,” the shield-maiden agreed. “And I yield.”

“Another round?”

Sif grinned fiercely. “Always.”

They fought thrice more: the second time, Sif lost again, to her own shock, but the third went by twice as fast, and Nadía yielded, in the end.

“You didn’t let me,” Sif said coolly.

“I’ve never once dared think I would ever need to,” Nadía promised.

“Good.”

The rest of the week passed much the same, until the seventh day.

Nadía was distracted, and it showed.

“What’s on your mind, little one.”

The younger warrior’s jaw tightened. “I’m tall as you, darling, don’t try that.”

A viper-quick swipe from Sif; her opponent dodged, but only barely.

“Your mind is elsewhere,” the shield-maiden pointed out. “Now, you know I demand nothing less than your full attention, sweet Nadía.”

The tender appellation seemed to throw her off a little further, but only for a second, because it had the desired effect of bringing her focus back to Sif almost entirely. “Oh, I do love when you’re demanding,” she shot back, and attacked with far more fervor this time,

Sif deflected and parried as much as she could, but was still pushed back a few steps before she gained sufficient leverage to turn the tables again, and send her opponent retreating two steps.

“You look weary, Nadía,” she teased.

Something crossed the younger mage’s expression like discomfort––like for a second, she really wasn’t there any longer. She lowered her weapons and stepped back quickly, shaking her head and raising a hand. “Hang on.”

“Are you all right?”

Nadía shook her head. “Just, uhm... reminded me of something. Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t think I can do this right now.”

Sif dropped her weapons and stepped closer, touching her arm. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m a bit ill, is all. Something from Jotunnheim. It should just be effecting my magic, but every now and then it sort of slips.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry, but I only just found out yesterday. I’m going to go to Nifelheim tomorrow, and the First of the Three should be able to treat it.”

“For one ill, you’ve certainly been a challenge this entire week.”

Nadía smiled at her with genuine warmth then. “For you? Always, Sif. Well... not immediately, but uhm...” She started to sway slightly. “I get the feeling everything should... not be purple, right now.”

That was all the warning Sif got before her sparring partner collapsed.

 

~~

 

Sif was waiting for him when Firas sought her out the next day, returned as he was from delivering his sister to Nifelheim.

“Timing,” the shield-maiden said.

He sat down beside her on the steps leading down into the practice ring. “You’re not off-put yet, though.”

“Why would I be?” She shot him a genuinely bemused look.

The shape-shifter grinned at her. “I dunno either.”

“How is she?”

“Hallucinating less. Hretha has a lot of plants and potions knowledge that doesn’t exist anywhere in the rest of the realms, and the virus that’s afflicting her is one that used to be known to old Jotunnheim. She’ll be fine. Hretha has a great poker-face, but not great enough to lie to our family about being certain she could do that.”

“Hretha?”

“She’s kin of ours. In Nifelheim.”

Sif nodded. “Aren’t you supposed to avoid sharing their names?”

“I’m trusting you. It’s a thing,” Firas retorted.

“Oh... thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He elbowed her arm lightly. “As in, literally, never ever mention that I did that. They are pretty serious about the name business.”

“I’ll take care to cover for you,” Sif countered.

“Good.”

They stared straight ahead for a couple of minutes in silence.

“I do not think she is still infatuated with me.”

“Oh?”

Sif nodded.

“She’s a bit different, since she came back. A little cooler, not as...” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I say that, but...”

“Hm?”

“She was doing better. Sparring more with you. More like herself.”

“I... don’t know how to interpret that.”

“I think you were helping her come back mentally, as well as physically. I think that’s independent of the infatuation thing. It’s just... you and her.”

Sif nodded. “I am glad to have helped in some way, then.”

“I’ll let you know when I hear any more news.”

“Thank you.”

 

~~

 

One month later, Pepper Potts of all people appeared in Alfheim.

“Apparently, there’s been direct requests to Thor for you to be-”

“-brought back to Asgard?” Sif finished.

“Yes,” Pepper said. “Loki is occupied in Jotunnheim, Tony is fighting Hydra, the Warriors Three are afraid you might bite one of their heads off, and I’ve been reliably informed that you’re actually a bit fond of me, so I volunteered.”

Sif cleaned her sword and sheathed it, looking slightly sheepish all the while.

“So this is... cathartic, for you?” Pepper asked, as they began to walk away from building that wouldn’t take kindly to a the bi-frost hitting the ground nearby.

“It... serves as distraction, when I feel slightly helpless.”

“I could use that, lately, myself,” the redhead admitted, with a sigh.

“Is Nadía in better health?”

“She’s recovering, yes. Her magic is a bit unpredictable, though. The medicine which is combatting the virus has some odd side-effects, but within a week or so, the last of it all should be out of her system,” Pepper said.

Sif nodded, exhaling heavily. “Good. I wish her well.”

“My son told me a few interesting things.”

The warrior managed not to panic, but it was a near thing. She managed to blink mildly and inquire, “About?”

“I had noticed, in the few days shortly before her symptoms appeared and so spectacularly worsened, that she was acting more herself. After Jotunnheim, she was... a bit like Tony was when he came back from Afghanistan, but only a little milder. She wasn’t traumatized, but she was hardened. Harrowed, a little, maybe, and had so much anger under her skin...” Pepper shook her head. “She didn’t know how to relax and be herself like she’d used to. Firas said you helped her, with that.”

“He did say... Well, he suggested to me that my sparring sessions with her might have done so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I do not know; I might hope so. She had seemed cooler, than before, for a while, but...” She hesitated. “Well, she found me, at the coronation party. I was not aware the phenomenon had a name, exactly, but she discovered me while I was having a panic-attack. I’ve... had them before, but only ever dealt with them on my own.”

“I see,” Pepper said softly.

“She helped me through that. Perhaps that, along with our sparring sessions as an outlet for residual rage, in combination helped somewhat. She had seemed more closed-off, with me, before that, but afterward she was more at ease.”

“It would make a lot of sense.”

“Your daughter, if I may say, Pepper, is a marvel.”

“Thank you.” The redhead smiled warmly, full of pride. “She’s so fond of you. I’m glad... I’m glad you appreciate her.”

“It’s an honor to consider her my friend.”

“That’s good,” Pepper murmured. “Particularly since Firas mentioned you might be in love with her.”

Sif may have come close to tripping over her own boots, if not for Pepper grabbing the back collar-piece of her armor and tugging up and back enough to bring her back fully upright in time to get her feet back under herself properly. “Did he?”

“It might have come up.”

“Is this the part where you threaten my life if I harm her? I had already assumed you would have more terrifying threats to issue than Loki, after hearing about how Odin looked after you whispered to him,” Sif said, unable to quite stop the words pouring out.

The redhead snorted softly, amused. “I suspect you already know about that. It’s no secret who her family is and how very protective we are of our own.”

“Right...” She glanced up at Pepper then. “Now what, then?”

“Nothing much. I know. You know I know. Neither of us actually know how Nadía feels about it, and she has final say.” She shrugged. “Also: if you can stop scaring the crap out of allied realms by how violently you deal with raiders to the point they’re too scared to ask you to go home themselves, and instead send tentative messengers home? That’d be nice.”

“I... will work on it.”

“Thank you.” Pepper patted her on the back, and called Heimdall.

 

~~

 

Of course, the very week Nadía had finally recovered, outside of Nifelheim the apocalypse appeared to be nigh.

Sif, along with the Avengers, several Jotunn warriors, as well as other warriors from throughout the realms, stood guard around their gathered mages, as they made a last desperate bid to keep all of reality from tearing itself apart.

And of course, it had to hinge upon Nadía and Firas, the twins sharing each other’s hearts and minds through a bond all their own, sharing the mental load of words of power older than the universe they occupied, shaking through everyone around them until their very bones seemed heavier and crackling with it, acting as more conduits for the overflow of power to pulse out through. Most of the mages caught on and added their own powers to the weaving, spinning the wheel of fortune faster, and all the warriors around them felt hissing whispers of it up through their veins, like air through fan-blades. All of it was a storm.

Sif could see it, feel it, and taste it as each syllable rang through her whole skeleton and every fiber of her every nerve.

 _Brother? Do you remember that map?_ seemed to hiss by on impossible winds as the whole universe spun and coalesced up through them.

Every warrior, and every mage, seemed to overlap in their own minds for several disconcerting seconds, each of them feeling the thrum of the words of power through themselves, and all who stood with them.

_What map?_

_The map that brought us here._

Sif could sense wicked mirth, mad brilliance, a reaching beyond the furthest known stars and further still. _Nadía_.

_... so much clearer now..._

_Nadía and Firas_ , Sif thought. _By the nine, what are you doing? What have you done? Can you even control-_

**_Do you see the patterns in it? Do you see us within it?_ **

Sif almost could, for just a moment, see something like a lattice-work of double-helixes interwoven like a tangle of ivy, and Yggdrasil’s every branch, and a pair of improbable and incomprehensible twins and so much of the impossible threading through the merely improbable until four hands reached out through it, and into it, despite almost being burned away by it or stuck within it, and they rearranged... _something_.

 _One-hundred and seventy-four_ , Sif thought, inexplicably.

Then with an electrically thrumming thud, it all crashed down and reality flooded back in, washing over them all like a drunken tide.

The air was clear, the crack of a dying universe and ruptured reality was sealed.

Screams startled all of them.

Then Sif saw the three who had cried out, and the two they barely prevented from falling off the edge of the mages’ circle and into an abyss, and almost screamed herself. Whatever the twins had done, she thought for a moment that they might have lost themselves to it, and almost collapsed, only to grip her spear more tightly and use it as leverage to drag herself up and run over to the family.

“What happened?” she demanded. “Are they-”

“They live,” Loki said sharply. “They live, but we need to get them to Nifelheim. The Three are the only ones who might begin to understand... how...”

Seeing Loki at a loss, unable to even determine how his children had done what they had done, Sif felt something in her shatter quietly at the despair in his expression. “What can I do?”

“We need a way to carry them back up to the surface,” Pepper said. “Quickly, without much jostling. Everyone here is out of magic, or damn close to... it... where did she get off t-” She stopped when Sif reappeared, holding up a large shield. It was, in fact, enormous, and had enough room for up to three people to be carried on it.

“Donated by a concerned warrior of Jotunnheim,” the shield-maiden explained.

“You’re efficient,” Tony said. “I like it. Now help us get them on that, and I think the four of us should be able to get them up and out of here without tossing them around too much.” He met Sif’s gaze them, sizing her up anew. “Thanks.”

Sif inclined her head, and knelt beside Loki. “Are you well?”

“Not in the least, Sif.”

“Nor am I.”

He looked up at her, then, and held her gaze for a few moments.

“Let me help,” she said softly.

“Why?”

“Loki...” Tony said.

“Because they are my friends, and I want to do well by them as I was too much a fool to do by you. They deserve better from me, and I would give it,” she responded. “You know how I treat my friends. You know _me_ , of old, Loki Lie-smith.”

“I do.” He nodded, and some of the tension left his shoulders. He stood, bent over, and accepted her aid in carefully moving both twins to the make-shift stretcher.

Once above-ground, Pepper hoarsely called for Heimdall.

A blast of technicolor light took them to Asgard.

Another sent them to Nifelheim before Sif could even think to ask to go with them, and she was left facing Heimdall with a slightly shattered expression on her face.

Her brother left his post and strode toward her. “What happened?”

Sif opened her mouth, then closed it, and shook her head. When Heimdall pulled her into a hug, she went limp in his grasp, her whole body shaking. He let her shake and cry near-silently for several minutes, stroking her hair.

“More are calling me,” he whispered.

Taking a deep breath, the shield-maiden straightened herself up. “I’ll be fine.”

Heimdall shot her a look. The look said “Are you serious?” very loudly, with no small amount of disbelief, where his words did not.

“I might be fine. I can... I can walk home, myself.”

He stroked her hair again. “If you need anything, I am here.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

He let her go.

Chin held high, Sif slowly walked home.

 

~~

 

One week later, Sif was instructing young guards-in-training in a few practice drills, as a favor to the captain of the guard to whip these particular trainees into shape, when she heard light footsteps behind her.

She turned her head a little, not enough to see, but enough to let the person behind her know they had been heard. A shift of fabric followed: someone leaning against the nearest pillar, watching her work.

Sif finished their last set, and sent them on their ways before turning around. Her breath caught in her chest. “Oh.”

Nadía smiled at her, open and warm. “Hey.”

“You...” The shield-maiden took a deep breath. “Hello.”

The young mage’s eyebrows raised. “Bad day?”

“Bad week... bad... few seasons,” Sif mused, and met her former pupil’s stare flatly, holding it until the younger woman was almost uncomfortable, then smiled a bit, lighter and only a little teasing. “Better, for you being around.”

Nadía glanced down. “Thank you.” She met her mentor’s gaze again almost hesitantly. “I don’t suppose you’d like to spar?”

Sif’s answering smile was all teeth. Anger and helplessness had been itching under her skin for far, far too long. “With you? Always.”

 

~~

 

In Asgard, it had become well-known that the only warrior aside from Thor who could hold their own against Mighty Sif in one-on-one combat, was Nadía Lokissdottir. It had been so for a long time before the recent apocalypse, and it seemed inclined to remain so; although from some of the whispers, one might wonder otherwise.

The pair had a fearful audience at first, nervous about what Nadía and her brother had done to save all of the realms, because even their mages could not fully explain it. They feared that the twins had possibly become something alarming, as Fenrir almost had, but Sif fought valiantly against the far younger warrior, and they seemed as close to evenly matched as ever, at first glance. After the first hour, most of their audience had finally drifted away.

All save Tony Stark, who watched from a further distance, on a nearby rooftop, but not even his daughter noticed. He bit into an apple, watching with some amusement. He had several bets riding on this sparring match, after all.

Nadía watched her opponent closely, bicolor eyes sharp and clear this time. “You’re distracted,” she said, and feinted for her neck with one blade, the other coming up low to block a similar maneuver from Sif, who had feinted for her shoulder, but truly aimed for her belly.

Sif dodged the attack rather than the feint, her eyes on her opponent’s. “I am.”

Eyebrows slightly raised in surprise, Nadía asked, “By what?”

Not answering, Sif attacked again, throwing almost her whole strength into it, and sending her opponent reeling, which she took advantage of, charging in with one blade high and the other low.

Barely able to trap the low blade, the redhead dodged the high one and sliced across Sif’s side with her own free blade.

Barely wincing at the surge of pain from the magics in the blade, Sif drove her pommel down hard on the base of the blade while at the same time she pulled back, sending the weapon clattering to the floor and then kicking it away.

Nadía held her ground for just a second before darting away almost too fast to see until she was already picking up her discarded blade and getting back into position. “You’re mad at me?” she guessed.

“Why would you say that?” Sif inquired, waiting patiently where she was.

Taking the hint, the younger fighter charged in, fast and all at once, landing a few more glancing blows before her older opponent did something tricky and brilliant and Nadia was kicked hard enough in the chest that her back hit the wall of the pit hard, but she kept her blades up, ducking the next attack and coming up strong from lower, lashing out and chasing the shield-maiden back. “When I remind you you’re distracted, you come back harder, but with less finesse than usual.” She narrowly countered a blow that would’ve caused some wicked bruising too her throat, and riposted it hard and swift enough to almost set her opponent off-balance. “See?”

“I’m not angry with you, not really,” said Sif.

“So you’re still a little angry with me?”

A low growl escaped the older warrior and she attacked again.

Nadia hit the wall again, harder this time. “I’m gonna go with ‘yes’ then?” She didn’t wait for an answer, seeing Sif closing in, ready to pin her by her throat. Sliding down the brick wall she crouched low and came up hard and fast, pushing past and around Sif, spinning her, blocking two more strikes and then launching forward hard.

Sif’s back hit the wall, both of her opponent’s blades crossed, right where they almost touched her throat.

“You can either yield, or tell me what’s bothering you, because you practically _let_ me do that, and I can’t stand you being afraid of me too, Sif,” Nadía hissed.

“I feel the same way about you, actually.”

Nadía’s breathing evened out a little and some of the tension left her shoulders.

“Why are they afraid of you this time, exactly?” Sif asked lightly, glancing around and realizing that their visible spectators had all wandered away. “They seemed worried about me, at first, the poor fools.”

“I saw... a lot of things. With what we did.” She swallowed thickly. “I saw a lot of people I knew, even, but I saw dozens, or even hundreds of versions of them, except it was still all at once, so it was like seeing all of the facets of them at once...”

“Nadía...”

“Just... let me say this.” She cleared her throat. “What we did shouldn’t have been possible, and was sort of possible for all the same reasons my brother and I shouldn’t be, to this universe. It’s a long story, and it’s very complicated, and this is not how I meant to tell you that you were one of the people I saw like that.”

Sif stared, wide-eyed. “W-what did you see of me?”

“All of you. All of... all of a bunch of you. Lady Sif, born a goddess and forged a warrior. You’ve been baptized in the tears of your enemies and their children’s children fear your name*,” Nadía said, as though reciting something. “You’re astonishing,” she added, sounding a little breathless. “You’re looking at me like you’re terrified and worried, because you don’t want me to be afraid of you, but you know any sane person would, and you’re now worrying about my sanity.”

“I often worry about your sanity, to be fair.”

“I know.” Nadía leaned in closer. “And I worry a bit about yours.”

Sif stared at her. “You want to know what’s distracting me?” she said softly.

“Is it me?”

“Yes, but only because I’ve been trying to find the opportunity to tell you that I love you for over three years now and I’ve learned that if I put it off more than a few days, the odds are that you will be dragged away somewhere for years or months at a time, so I have been trying to get the courage to tell you now... and here and now I have it,” Sif said faintly. After a slightly awkward pause, she added, in tones somehow both reassuring and defiant, “So no, I didn’t _let_ you win. I was just severely distracted by you. Being you. And wanting more of that in my life rather desperately.”

Nadía’s swords dropped. Only an instinctive hand-wave and hasty spell prevented them from clattering on the ground or hitting either of them as they dropped. She continued to stare for a long few seconds.

“You begin to worry me, Nadía.”

“I... need a moment.”

Sif waited, trying not to fidget. “I thought this might be a promising enough start, I _am_ even pinned against the wall, or I was, and you just-” She cut off when Nadía surged suddenly forward and kissed her.

Heat and enthusiasm and _yes_ skilled tongue served as a very effective distraction thereafter, as did the feel of the heat and friction between them as they pressed closer, despite bits of armor awkwardly catching here and there. Sif grasped the back of the redheaded mage’s neck to deepen the kiss still further, and gave a soft moan into that clever, captivating mouth, feeling Nadía shiver with it and grip her hips hard making a faint breathless sound of her own.

Free hand sliding down from Nadía’s shoulder, down her spine slowly, Sif gasped softly when her pupil stepped in closer, pinning her more effectively against the wall. Breaking away from the kiss with a start only when that wandering hand settled on her behind and squeezed appreciatively, Nadía stared, breathing raggedly.

“Wow... you...” The mage emitted a low noise between a groan and a squeak upon feeling another squeeze from Sif’s hand, then grinned in utterly salacious coquetry. “ _You_ really _want_ me...”

Sif nodded fervently.

“ _You_ want _me_.”

The goddess’ brow furrowed. “Yes, I do.”

“Is this...”

“I would have this last for only as long as you will have me,” she rasped.

Nadía’s eyes widened a little, and she swallowed convulsively. She remembered vaguely being advised to wait another forty-odd years, and promptly threw that idea out the window. “Good... because so far I’m really good at wanting you consistently.”

Sif blushed a bit more deeply. “If you’re certain you-” She was cut off by another, slower and more thorough kiss, the younger woman leading: languid, exploratory, and smoothly conquering. When it stopped, the shield-maiden was more than a little breathless.

“No really, I’ve wanted you for over twenty years, including before I knew what exactly I wanted from you entirely. I’m quite certain a few more decades will only cause me to grow still more ridiculously fond of you.”

Helplessly giggling a little, Sif cupped her face. “You are perfection, Nadía.”

“Not at all,” she responded, blushing furiously. “But I’m in love with you, too, and we’re both incredibly stubborn, so I’m sure we’ll work out fine.”

“Very true.”

“Also, at this rate, we might gain another audience soon...”

“You’re the mage,” Sif chided. “Get us out of here.”

“As you wish,” Nadía murmured, and vanished them.

 

~~

 

Tony strode into the main feasting hall of Asgard, tossing his half-eaten apple in the air and catching it repeatedly, occasionally pausing to take another small bite.

“You’re looking cheerful,” remarked the queen, where she and Pepper were discussing diplomatic matters over lunch at the great table.

“I just won a few bets. Also we should give Sif the scary talk at some point. That said... not the _scariest_ one. I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, at first, because Sif, but I’m coming around to the idea. I hadn’t actually seen them spar in ages; it’s all sort of obvious in retrospect that they’re crazy about each other.”

“Have you been betting on our daughter’s love life?” Pepper chided.

Jane coughed, barely managing not to choke on her drink. “What?”

The inventor considered. “You haven’t?”

His lover frowned at him, not entirely denying it.

“How’d you work it out, actually?” Tony asked.

“I knew she had a crush for ages. Painfully obvious. Firas mentioned it was mutual a while back.” She sipped some tea. “You?”

Jane was obviously still coming to terms with this whole conversation. “What?”

“Well, did you _see_ her after the twins’ post-apocalyptic collapse?”

Pepper hummed. “Right. I guess it was a little obvious.”

“Excuse me?” the queen requested.

“Oh, right. Our daughter has had a nearly life-long crush on Lady Sif,” Pepper explained. “Apparently, at some point within the past, oh, three to five years, it’s become mutual and there has been a bit of mutual pining going on.”

“Sif seriously pines like a goddamn champ,” Tony cut in. “But their post-apocalyptic reunion sparring session might’ve just become a study in sexual tension ending with a make-out session before Nadía teleported them away somewhere.”

Jane blinked several times in rapid succession. “And you’re both... fine with this?”

“We know Sif,” Pepper said. “She is one of few I would trust with my daughter in spite of quite such a vast age difference.”

“Who’s telling Loki, then?” Tony mused.

Pepper looked around the room expectantly, then sighed. “Damn, I was really hoping he was doing the lurking-then-well-timed-entrance thing.”

“Alas, we shall have to scold him for this failure to take advantage of such brilliant dramatic timing,” the inventor intoned gravely. “Where did he go, anyway?”

 

~~

 

Nadía may have emitted a sound like a muffled shriek upon reappearing in her guest quarters in the palace, still pinning Sif to a wall, only to spot her father leaning against the nearby desk. He didn’t appear overly perturbed, which somehow made everything that much worse.

“Uhm... I can explain?” his daughter said quickly.

Loki raised an eyebrow at them both slowly, imperiously.

Sif blushed a deep crimson, but she didn’t move her hand from where she still gripped Nadía’s arse possessively, and her stare didn’t waver.

“I expected this, actually. Hlín owes me a boon,” the trickster commented. He nodded at them both. “Sif, do please remain as honorable as you have always been, and as improved in your judgements as you have been in the wake of the Cancer-verse and I should have little reason to plot your demise with the aid of my lovers. Fare you both well.” With a hint of a surprisingly mirthful smirk tugging at his lips, he inclined his head, and strode out of the room, doors snapping shut and locking politely behind him.

Nadía gaped after him. “What... _what_... how did...”

“I have actually grown rather fond of your family.”

“I’m glad one of us has,” the young mage groaned, hiding her face in the crook of Sif’s neck. “I should strangle him!”

“Nadía...”

“That was just the most-”

“You did notice he didn’t disapprove.”

Nadía considered. “He... didn’t.”

“You expected him to, based on your initial panicked reaction.”

“He might have suggested I should wait another forty-something years,to––to... uhm... to pursue you. As long as I was serious.”

Sif’s eyebrows raised considerably. “Every time I think that I understand that man, he does the maddest things...”

“I’m so confused.”

“It might have occurred to him that his lovers were both well under half a century old when he became involved with them, and insistence upon that matter might be the slightest bit ridiculous...”

“This is true.”

“The same goes for Thor and his queen.”

“You’re in my bedroom, and I have you pinned to a wall,” Nadía pointed out. “Anytime you’d like to stop discussing my family, I’d really like to get back to your hands getting a bit busier about my person.”

Sif cleared her throat. “Then, my dear young mage, why are we both still wearing all of this clothing and armor?”

“You have a thing for mages?”

“Hmm, a few, over time. I do enjoy the convenience of some magics, but trust me, when I say I plan to enjoy much more than just that, for much longer than those previous dalliances lasted.”

Nadía blushed again, smirking. “What if I decide to draw things out?” She began to unbuckle and unhook pieces of Sif’s armor, one by one, with both hands, trailing downward slowly, tugging here and there. “What if I want to take my time and savor you, my goddess divine?”

Sif dragged her teeth across her lower lip. “I would be impressed by your patience and restraint.”

“I do love to impress you.”

The shield-maiden shifted in order to aid the removal of her chest- and back-plates, clever fingers sliding under them to unbind some of the more complex straps beneath so that the pieces at her shoulders and about her collar began to loosen even as the larger plates were set reverently to one side. Sif’s breathing quickened as she raised both arms to facilitate the removal of her chain mail. She didn’t bind her chest tightly, as some women warriors of Jotunnheim did, who wore no armor, but did wear a light wrap in a style akin to those of Vanaheim, who considered a non-inhibiting binder better for the fit of their armor. Nadia brushed her knuckles across the front, making her mentor’s breath catch slightly, before the young mage slowly knelt and took gentle hold of her right knee and ankle, lifting both as Sif’s hands lightly gripped her shoulders for balance, trusting her.

Nadía removed each boot slowly, followed by the socks beneath, then let her hands creep up the back of Sif’s thighs as they trailed back up, caressed under the leather skirt just briefly before retreating enough to settle on the back of its waistband, where she unfastened it, and let the garment collapse over her hands, which set it aside with the test of the armor, leaving Sif only in leather leggings, and a thin pale cloth around her chest. Kissing the inside of one of the warrior’s thighs, holding Sif’s gaze all the while, the mage nuzzled higher enjoying how the older woman’s breath audibly hitched at the gesture.

“You yourself are far too clothed,” said the shield-maiden.

Smirking wickedly, Nadía snapped a finger, and banished her own clothing save for a sleek black garment Sif vaguely recalled seeing briefly before, in Midgard (known as a “sports bra” if she remembered correctly) and her own leather jodhpurs. “There. Now we’re even,” she purred.

“Th-that’s hardly fair,” Sif began to protest, but then a one of the redhead’s thumbs ran up the inseam of her own leggings, following it up to settle between her legs, before running her thumb roughly up over the middle of her sex through the thick fabric, applying pressure and just a teasing amount of friction that was far, far from enough; although it still sent a rush of heat flooding through the shield-maiden from head-to-toe and back up to pool low in her stomach. Her hips arched into the touch a little despite herself.

“I only play fair in battle, and even then, only in practice,” Nadía teased, rubbing again, this time in focused little circles with the tip and pad of her thumb.

Sif bit her lip, struggling not to keep moving into the tempting pressure and too-taunting hints of fricative relief. “And with me.”

The mage’s smile softened a little, but more than a little mischief remained, as she leaned up and kissed her mentor’s stomach right above the waistline of her leggings. “Most of the time, but only because _all_ is fair, in love... and war, as they say,” she purred, and nipped at the buttons which closed the front of Sif’s leggings, still rubbing hard with that one taunting thumb as her other hand drifted back to untie the few laces at the back of the garment’s waistband.

Sif made a sound, seeing Nadía bite off each button, wanting to protest, but upon removing the last one, the mage smirked up at her, trailed one blue-glowing hand along the buttonless section, with a spell replacing each one. She then stuck out her tongue: proof of no more buttons resting upon it.

“You’re mad,” the warrior giggled, but her breath stopped short entirely as Nadía pulled her leggings down, stripping them away and leaving her almost completely bare. Holding the younger woman’s gaze, Sif plucked the ends of the wrap about her chest, unbinding them and letting the cloth fall away into the redhead’s waiting hands, which folded the cloth with a spell and set it aside, shaking only a little.

“You are magnificent,” Nadía murmured, lips very close to her skin at the crease of her thigh, as she stared up her goddess’ body with open admiration. “Sif...”

“If you don’t distract me, I will pin you to my bed before you have a chance to enjoy your current position,” Sif purred, voice slightly husky.

The mage emitted a small, guttural noise from her throat. “Well then,” she managed, her pupils very wide. “I suppose I should-” Her lips drifted slowly closer to the folds of her lover’s sex. “- _distract_ you.” Gripping the other woman’s hips with her fingertips, thumbs tugging from either side to hold her open slightly, Nadía gave a long, slow lick, slow and lazy at first, then playfully rougher and more intent upon reaching her lover’s clit, making Sif moan, and then cry out softly when Nadía suckled there, tongue swirling.

“ _Oh_ , by the nine.”

Strong fingers slid shallowly into Nadía’s hair, held back in one long, now-increasingly-messy plait as it was. She hummed satisfaction and felt her lover tremble against her mouth with it. Sucking harder, she began to employ two fingers, stroking along the rest of Sif’s sex, increasingly slick, mercilessly teasing.

“N-nadía, please, yes, please––just––ahh.” She emitted a sound like a growl when that clever mouth abruptly stopped.

“Please what, Sif?” she asked, innocent as she could sound, even as her tongue darted out to lick traces of arousal from around her lips.

Sif’s hips rolled forward just a little, helplessly, at the sight. “Don’t stop.”

“You’ll have to specify.” Long fingers, not quite soft as those of any mage that wasn’t also a warrior, continued teasingly stroking back and forth over needy flesh, now slick and hot, never enough friction, never pushing deeper.

“You want me to ask you to make me come?” Sif panted. “Because I would make you scream first.”

Nadía shivered. “You don’t want me to finish here?”

“I’d like you to ‘finish’ several times, in various places and positions.”

The mage licked her lips again, sliding two fingers slowly into Sif’s opening, watching her reactions closely as she began to pump them slowly in and out, catching right along sensitive spots just _so_.

Sif lost track of her words again slightly, breathing through parted lips as color again rose to her face.

“You feel wonderful,” Nadía murmured, lips close to where they were most needed, whispering warm breath across sensitive skin that all but cried out for her touch and the heat of her tongue. “Before you take over, because oh, I’m looking forward so to that, let me savor you like this.” She pressed an unchaste kiss over the bundle of nerves that her tongue had so taunted before, and smiled over it when Sif’s whole body trembled with it. Picking up the pace of her fingers slowly, lips parting, Nadia let her tongue snake out, pushing down and away from the swollen bud at first, then splaying wide and sliding roughly up over it, almost a rasp, drawing the most delightfully keening sound from Sif’s throat. Her tongue then flicked, as her lips created a seal around the sensitive flesh, and she applied suction again, harder, the tip of her tongue tracing intricate shapes across the most sensitive flesh, pushing back the clitoral hood with each little stroke. All the while, her fingers, now three within her lover, pushed deeper, applying more friction, speeding and slowing by turns, never settling on any one rhythm long enough for Sif to grow used to it.

The Lady Sif was lost, then, head thrown back, muscles in her thighs beginning to tremble as she gripped Nadía’s shoulders for dear life, almost sobbing with the shocks of pleasure from that _talented_ mouth and those clever hands, and the little hums of appreciation and mild smugness Nadía gave.

“Nadía, oh sweet Nadía your mouth oh my––” She cut off, as the first spasm of climax crackled up through her, then cried out sharply as the second, stronger one struck and rolled through her like a tidal wave, sending shuddering tremors through every muscle in her body, outward from the more focused spasms low in her stomach and between her legs, where Nadía continued her ministrations with fervor, carrying Sif higher until she was sure something was going to shatter, but instead she was hit with another shock, almost whimpering with it, shaking like a leaf until the glow faded slightly and the pleasurable pressure and friction Nadía applied became quickly too much, almost painful. With a herculean effort, Sif pushed at her shoulders. “Sssst-stop, please, too much, too, ohhh you’re good at that.”

Pulling back, licking her lips clean with an air of cat-like satisfaction, Nadía purred, “Why thank you. Consider it incentive to let me have my way, on occasion.” She winked up at the still slightly blissed-out goddess standing over her, and emitted a faint cry of shock when Sif went from languid and boneless, straight to focused aggression, dragging her up and all but tossing her onto the nearby bed.

Sif then leaned over her and prowled up until their faces were level, eyes devilish and predatory and very, very possessive. “My turn.”

With Sif staring her down like a panther might stare at its next meal, their bodies close enough she could feel as well as hear the rumbling quality of the warrior’s voice, Nadía ranked this as the absolute sexiest moment in her entire life to date, and was surprised she didn’t melt into a literal puddle right then and there; although she did go bonelessly plaint and emit a sound like a needy whimper that should have been embarrassing, except that it made Sif grin like the cheshire cat, and so Nadía could not bring herself to regret it in the least.

Then the goddess crashed in closer to kiss her, full of heat and fury, hands roaming every inch. Without the least hesitation, Sif tore both straps of the sports bra in her way, and then the section between Nadía’s breasts, in neat tugs between the fingers of both hands. She pushed the shreds of fabric aside as she left off the redhead’s ever-so-distracting mouth in order to nip at her chin, nibble up one side of her jaw, bite harder right at the corner where it met her neck, and then trail nibbling teeth, swirling tongue and sucking lips in equal measure in a slow trail down the line of Nadía’s throat. Her bare knees settled between the mage’s still-leather-clad legs and pushed them open further.

Nadía arched up against her with a series of small gasps and other wordless noises, seeking more contact, her hands caressing all the bare skin she could reach: up and down Sif’s sides, up to finally explore those immaculate breasts (they fit perfectly in her hands ands she badly wanted to lick every inch of them, but resisted, while Sif continued her way down across both of her clavicles, leaving small bites and bruises in her wake), and down to appreciatively grope Sif’s behind, until the shield-maiden seized her wrists and pinned them down on either side of her hips. Nadía had every intention of protesting, but cut off when Sif’s tongue swirled around over one of her nipples unexpectedly, then nipped sharply at the underside of that same breast.

“S-sif, please, I’m still wearing pants. You’re going to make me come without even taking off my pants, fuck.” Her whole body jerked when one of Sif’s hard thighs pressed right up against her sex and then moved in an unfairly delicious _grind_ that was almost bruising, but too perfect, and absolutely took her breath away. “Ohfff _uck_.”

“You may come so, if you must. I plan to have you far more than the once, before we’re done here.” Sif purred.

“Nnngh,” Nadía responded eloquently.

“You like that?”

The mage nodded fervently, throat visibly working around a dry swallow.

“Look at me.”

Nadía did, lifting her head again with an effort to meet Sif’s gaze.

Again, the goddess executed that grinding motion, harder still.

It almost hurt, but it was also immaculately _right against_ her swollen clit through the soft leather and Nadía shuddered with a noise like a stuttering moan. Then her opposite nipple got a long and thorough lick, the length of Sif’s tongue dragging up over it, before again, she bit the tender underside of her breast, even harder this time, with yet another grind.

Nadía cried out brokenly, the noise part-plea and part ragged moan. She breathed hard, trying to focus again properly, only to whine when she felt Sif’s leg slide back, but she managed to pry her eyes open again as the goddess’ fingers trailing over the same location made her shiver. It seemed a teasing, petting gesture, from the front fastenings of Nadía’s trousers, down over her sex and past it, to just between her cheeks, until Sif got a firm grip on that seam between her fingers, grabbing with intent and supernaturally strong fingers, and yanking up and forward very sharply.

Staring wide-eyed, Nadía had never been more turned on by ripped leather in her entire life. “Impatient?” she managed to inquire, voice unsteady.

“Very,” Sif agreed, another sharp tug removing the last troublesome bits out of her way. Her lover’s trousers were torn open from mid-thigh up to her hips, slightly asymmetrically, the largest piece of the front of the garment pushed aside, but still clinging to the remains of the top of Nadía’s left trouser-leg. There were also a few odd-shaped bits of silk discarded with the leather, which might have been the remains of some Midgardian style of underwear; as long as they were out of her way, Sif was satisfied. “I’ve been wondering for some while now how you taste.”

Nadía’s breath caught in her throat as Sif slid down, head dropping between her legs and she felt hot breath against her sex, strong hands sliding under torn leather to grip hard at her thighs. The initial series of quick, teasing licks set her shivering, wanting to buck her hips up closer for less fleeting contact, but when she tried, Sif’s hands on her thighs gripped harder and pinned her down firmly.

With a keen, hands grabbing hold of Sif’s shoulders for anchorage of some kind, any kind, Nadía tried to writhe in vain against that iron grip as the goddess’ tongue explored between the lips of her sex slowly and thoroughly, still in those soft, maddening little licks, making her pant and plea softly, “Sif please, more please, you’re driving me f-fucking crazy how do you––how––hnngh _Sif please please please more please please, oh fuck, Sif-_ ” and so on.

When Sif did finally indulge in one long, slow lick from her opening, up between her lips to roll over her clit, Nadía almost sobbed with it, her arms and legs shaking. Two slim fingers working their way into her made her back arch and a high-pitched whine escape her lips. She tried experimentally to move her hips again and realized belatedly that Sif’s other arm now braced it, forearm pinning her between hip-bones and the tops of her thighs, keeping her immobilized.

 _Trust Sif,_ she thought vaguely, _to know how to pin anyone with only a single limb, in all sorts of situations_.

Then the goddess’ fingers began to work her over and the small licks were back and Nadía was reduced to thoughts twice as incoherent as the wordless, breathy little sounds that rose unbidden from her throat as she hissed and struggled half-heartedly, not to escape, but to press for more. Sif didn’t budge, continuing to keep her in place, and keep her hovering on the edge of _not enough so close so close not enough_ until Nadía’s breaths came heavy and almost pained and she was reduced to intermittent whispers of “Please, please, please, oh, Sif, oh please,” like a broken mantra.

When three fingers began to fuck her in earnest and Sif’s mouth settled firmly over her clit and sucked _hard_ , Nadía came almost instantly with a ragged scream, her vision going white and every muscle in her body pulling bowstring-tight for several moments until she trembled and could swear Sif’s tongue was a violin-bow, making her every nerve _sing_ in that moment, before the climax broke over her and the tension released, spasmed in acute rise-and-fall so abrupt it knocked the breath out of her again before she could even finish refilling her lungs from the initial scream. She shook and shattered and felt boneless and sobbed with the last few after-shocks that threatened to sharply jar her from the foggy bliss in the wake of the storm.

Unable to form words, she tugged sharply at the back of Sif’s neck, and hissed relief when the goddess took that as signal to stop.

Still trembling a little, eyes fluttering shut, Nadía was aware of Sif crawling up her body again, this time settling over her close and warm, their bodies pressed together from chest to ankles, the goddess sitting up only slightly, weight resting on her forearms where they pressed lightly against either side of Nadía’s ribcage.

“You... good... yes that,” Nadía murmured, eyes fluttering open hazily.

Sif smiled down at her contently, and no little bit smugly.

The mage then grinned an utterly shameless grin that would’ve frightened any lesser witness, and held up one finger with intent to make a point. “I heard, from a reliable source, that you, and Thor and Jane once got Darcy wasted at a bar by not telling her Jane was more alcohol resistant than before her apple-dosage, and she asked you a series of bizarre cultural questions, a few of which, in retrospect, I’m very glad that I now know.”

The goddess’ brow furrowed and her head tilted slightly to one side as she shot her lover an inquiring look, and struggled not to panic as she searched her memory. “I recall the occasion... but not all of the questions.”

“She asked you about sex-toys. Of course, I also wound up asking various other people, around Asgard, because cultural differences, but your answer particularly, was of interest.”

“Oh, that.”

“I’m a mage, you see.”

“I never would’ve guessed,” Sif deadpanned.

“We have a habit of, hmm, embedding some useful little enchantments into objects we use frequently enough.”

The goddess snorted, amused. “You use this frequently.”

“I got in a fair amount of practice, on more people than you might think, and I’d like to use a little wearable object, slightly enhanced mystically so that I can _feel_ with it, to fuck you senseless,” Nadía purred.

Sif was moderately surprised, and did blush a bit. She had... dallied with other women before. She was more than aware that some of them used _toys_ as Midgardians called them, on each other, sometimes with a harness for... what Nadía was clearly suggesting. She had mentioned to Darcy, thinking the intoxicated girl unlikely to remember it, that she had never had such a thing used upon her by a partner. The mental image of such an act, now featuring Nadía, was certainly an intriguing one, and she swallowed in attempt to make up for how her mouth had gone suddenly dry. “I might be interested.”

Nadía’s grin was incandescently pleased, and greedy, and a bit openly depraved.

Sif was certain it shouldn’t have been so incredibly captivating, but found that she still adored it regardless, even as she felt a prickle of adrenaline in addition to sheer exhilaration when Nadía captured her mouth in a fervent kiss again.

 

~~

 

Firas was feeling moderately traumatized.

“You actually _knew_?!” he sputtered.

Loki shot him a distinctly unimpressed look. “Yes. Before you did.”

His son threw his hands in the air. “I give up! I give up. I owe Natasha fifty bucks now, and mom twenty, and my only consolation is that Steve owes me twelve.”

“You got Steve in on this?” Tony crowed. “I’m not sure whether to congratulate you or punch you!”

“His bet was on _you_ being oblivious to the whole thing,” Firas deadpanned. “That’s one of his few weak points these days, when it comes to making bets. It’s a bet on you missing something, or whether he can master a new technology before Thor, or whether Fury swears more than eight times in a debriefing over something one of us did. Those are about it.”

“Damn, really?” the inventor asked.

“Yes,” said Firas, Loki, and Pepper at the same time.

All of them shot each other disturbed looks.

“Never again?” the trickster suggested.  
“Yes,” Pepper agreed fervently.

“Never again,” Firas concurred.

A long pause followed.

“And you’re really... fine? With this?” Tony asked the god of lies carefully.

Loki nodded. “Sif is loyal to a fault, the sharpest of Thor’s old friends, I know all of her worst secrets already, Nadía cares for her and respects her in equal enough measure that the likelihood of either of them committing any great betrayals against one another is very low, and did I mention I know all of her worst nightmares and dark secrets already?”

“Good to see your priorities are all in order,” Firas mused, only a little mocking.

“Also, should anything try to get between them, I for one would be keen to see what desolation Sif might wreak upon them even before getting all of the rest of us involved,” Pepper mused. “I respect her capabilities even that much.”

A murmur of agreement from around the table followed.

 

~~

 

Sif had been expecting some sort of harness to be involved.

There were no straps. Human ingenuity, it seemed, knew no bounds, and they had come up with a device which made a harness unnecessary. One end, Nadía inserted into herself, the shape of her own body gripping it, until it seemed a natural extension of herself, save for the color: light blue-violet, bright against Nadía’s porcelain pallor.

Sif tried not to think about blue skin in a hot bath and running her tongue over every line marking Nadía’s flesh. She failed, right up until the mage in question slipped between her legs again, and she lost the ability to think coherently altogether, because a very talented tongue was busy taking her composure apart not-so-slowly.

By the time Nadía moved up along her body again, the shield-maiden was panting heavily, pliant and _hungry_ , assisting when the mage drew both of Sif’s legs up, hooking them over her shoulders and kissing along one Sif’s inner thighs down to the knee, then the other. “I like that you’re flexible like this.”

“I’ve killed people in a similar position.”

“Me too. I learned it mostly from you.” She reached down between them, lining herself up and pushing in just the head, watching Sif’s lips part. “Good?”

“Y-yes.” Sif hadn’t actually expected it to feel _warm_ and almost like it really was a part of her lover. In the sense that it was Nadía’s magic making it feel so, perhaps in that way, it truly was. “Don’t stop.”

“With you? Oh, I never plan to,” the mage purred, and pushed in, all at once, hissing at the feel of it. “Wow, you’re wet.”

A faint sound escaped the warrior’s throat and she rolled her hips up, eyes falling open at the breathless groan the move pulled from her lover. “You really feel this?” She flexed a few key internal muscles.

Nadía shuddered. “H-holy fuck, yes, I felt that.”

“What’s it like?”

“Truthfully?”

Sif nodded.

“Almost as good as your mouth, and I haven’t even gotten moving yet.” She grinned down at her mentor then. “I’m good at this, you know.”

“Are you?”

Settling one hand so her wrist rested where Sif’s neck and shoulder met, as an anchor, and gripping the goddess’ hip with the other, Nadía pulled back slowly and pushed back in hard, making them both gasp. “Yeah, it’s a knack.” She developed a rhythm, her gaze focused on Sif’s face as she lifted the goddess’ hips and changed the angle of her thrusts.

Sif’s nails scratched hard down her back as a tremulous moan escaped her, and she began to push and pull herself with it, using the whole of her body despite lack of leverage, arms and legs drawing Nadía closer with each thrust, and arching into each withdrawal. Most men she had been with like this felt more distant, but Nadía kept them close, as much skin in close contact as possible so every undulation of her hips seemed serpentine and all the more possessive.

At the same time, Sif had more leverage of her own, contributing her own force and demands into their rhythm. They fought here as they did anywhere else: give-and-take, focused and intense, seeking satisfaction and to impress and to master. Sif felt steered primarily by Nadía’s rapid breaths, and the sinuous rolling of their hips, each of her lover’s thrusts striking deep and thorough, ungentle yet controlled, moving with Sif’s reactions and the unspoken demands of her body, which the mage seemed to read from the goddess’ responses: every breath, every shift and shiver and moan, reading her and taking everything––taste and touch, pull and push, thrust and grind, sound and sight––while giving just as much of herself.

Making breathless sounds, now, Sif pulled her lover into another kiss, hot and desperate, and moaned high and sharp as Nadía’s hand left her hip to slide down between them and applied fluttering pressure in tight circles over her clit. The goddess gasped hard and shuddered, as Nadía rode her through it, slowing her thrusts but rubbing harder with her fingers until Sif seized her wrist with a cracked moan.

Nadía then gave an amused, predatory hum, and pinned both of the shield-maiden’s arms above her head, settling her own knees a little further apart as Sif’s eyes widened a little. “I’m far from finished with you,” the mage panted, and began to thrust again, faster and with still more force, holding back none of her strength.

Sif writhed with it, her breath catching with renewed arousal as each thrust shook her to the core. Holding Nadía’s gaze, she felt herself give over all control, both for the pleasure of it, and to see what the mage might do; in response, her lover’s expression turned both shattered open and ravenous.

“Sif, yes, you’re... oh you’re mine,” Nadía growled, biting hard where the goddess’ neck and shoulder met.

Crying out with it, Sif felt taken, opened up and pulled relentlessly apart, Nadía’s eyes staring down at her like everything she could see made her only desire more, see more, touch and possess and _dare_ to hold on tight. “N-Nadía, s-so good, you’re perfect so good, so–– _oh_ more of _that_!”

“I love the way you make my name sound,” the mage moaned.

“Nadía, don’t stop, just d-don’t stop.”

“You feel so good like this, do you know that?” Nadía murmured against her throat. “Come for me again, let me see you, Sif, I’m so close, please.”

Sif whimpered, arching up with a sharp cry. “H-harder.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Nadía hissed, gripping her wrists tighter and obliging her request with enough force to make the bed-frame audibly protest each thrust.

A shuddering cry escaped the goddess’ throat as another climax hit her, overwhelming enough to wring everything out of her, pleasure and pain coalescing until she saw sparks, hearing Nadía follow her with a broken moan against her shoulder, and  Sif was left shaking and utterly boneless in its wake.

After a few moments to catch their breath, Nadía moved to withdraw but Sif gripped her hips hard and held her in place firmly.

“N-not just yet,” she murmured. “You are really... really good at that.”

Nadía beamed, looking spent herself, easing Sif’s legs slowly from her shoulders back onto the bed, and resting her face between the goddess’ breasts with a content hum. “Good. So we both agree that it’s a good idea to do that again. A lot,” she murmured, sounding only a little dazed.

“Only if I get to try it on you next time.”

The mage emitted a half-strangled sound. “Oh. Oh you with––you’ll _ruin_ me.”

“And you will love _every_ second of it,” Sif purred.

“You. Perfection. Yes. You are perfection, and I so want that,” Nadía murmured, nuzzling one breast contently before tilting her head up enough to meet her lover’s gaze. “You’re wonderful, and I... I do love you.”

“And I you.”

Nadía smiled an incandescently happy smile and tried to hide it quickly, blushing deeply, but Sif clicked her tongue and grabbed her chin to drag her face back up, and even that couldn’t get the stupid grin to go away.

Sif leaned closer and kissed her forehead, then her nose, and then her lips, which finally at least relaxed the stupid-smile muscles a bit. “You glow when you’re happy, like the very sun, and your anger burns still hotter that that, and I want to taste every flicker of flame in your heart.”

The mage shuddered and kissed her more firmly. To get a better angle, she had to shift her hips and pull out slightly, making Sif emit a low whimper. She banished the toy after a quick cleaning spell and deepened the kiss until she could barely tell where her own limbs ended and her goddess’ began. Then Sif rolled her onto her back and Nadía stared up at her with a coyote-like, challenging smile. “I want you mine, my goddess, my warrior and my heart, and I want to be known by you, and know you, as no other would dare.”

“Then we shall have it.”

“As easy as that?” Nadía inquired.

“As easy as you and I ever are.”

“So not easy at all.”

“If you wanted easy, you would never have challenged me, sweet Nadía.”

“Glad you noticed. I hope you noticed I won’t stop.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Good.” Nadía kissed the corner of her smiling mouth. “Perfect.”

 

~~

 

It took Asgard a very long time to actually notice the change between the Lady Sif, and Nadía Lokissdottir. The flirting and coy looks were what first caught the attention of the Warrior’s Three, who weren’t sure, at first, whether it was somehow a trick or not, save Fandral, who only smirked to himself and said not a word. When Nadía began to accompany Sif on ventures to other realms as often as the Warriors Three (and on several occasions without the Warriors Three at all, on less perilous journeys Sif was usually more wont to take alone), Asgard thought little of it.

The Warriors Three figured it out the first time Sif was pulled backwards to land in Nadía’s lap, while attempting to stoke their campfire. The shield-maiden tried to pull away, but Nadía only tightened her grip and murmured something close to her ear before nibbling at it a little, which had the hardened warrior goddess blushing a bit and not looking any of her other cohorts in the eye for a few moments. She did, notably, stop struggling altogether, which alone brought a victorious, mad grin to her lover’s face.

“So...” Volstagg said, glancing at them.

Her nose tucked against Sif’s shoulder, Nadía peered up at him with an innocent expression and fluttered her eyelashes. “Yes?”

Sif herself regained composure quickly and shot him a mildly questioning look, as though nothing odd were happening at all.

Chuckling to himself, Vostagg shook his head.

“I assume this is no secret?” Hogun inquired lightly.

“Considering my entire family has apparently had at least four separate betting pools going in relation to this? No, secrecy isn’t really a thing,” Nadía deadpanned. “How much did Firas make off the bet with you, Fandral?”

Sif shot her old friend a glare suddenly.

Fandral cleared his throat. “I... owe him an unspecified ‘large favor’.”

“Oh you poor fool,” the goddess sighed.

“Yes,” he sighed. “I have no one to blame but myself.”

“They really _all_ had bets going?” Sif inquired.

“Father made a bet with Hlín, Firas made bets with Natasha and Steve and Fandral and our mother and a couple of others I haven’t worked out yet, Dad made his bets with... you know, I actually have no idea who he collected from, just that he was way too pleased with himself.”

“Probably Amora or something, then,” Hogun suggested.

Sif looked horrified. “What?!”

“One really does never know, with her,” Nadía mused, sounding a little uneasy herself about it.

Settling with her arms folded across the mage’s about her own waist, the goddess huffed and shook her head a little. “I’m just going to quietly try to forget about that. All others in favor?”

Unanimous agreement followed.

 

~~

 

Most of the rumors about increased closeness between one of Asgard’s finest warriors, and Nadía the mage, didn’t actually gain much traction outside of the palace until months after they had become lovers.

King Thor had created a new holiday, celebrating the thaw of Jotunnheim over the course of three days. Once the sun was low, all the city was full of traveling merchants, music, and song, caught up in a festival air. The gardens outside the palace were open to many beyond the usual court, though all knew most figures of any renown therein: royalty, great warriors, diplomats the likes of the king’s adoptive brother and his family, visiting dignitaries from Jotunnheim and Alfheim, and still others.

It was noticed quickly, by those who had an eager eye out for opportunity to perhaps catch a dance with the beautiful Lady Sif, and court her fire however fleetingly, that she was very much occupied for the night. The lady with her had fox-fire hair half-up in a series of complex plaits which combined into a larger and simpler one that ran halfway down her back, and wore fairly simple garb of distinctly Jotunn style.

It was clear to anyone with eyes that Sif couldn’t take her eyes off of the young mage, who was, also very clearly, Nadía Lokissdottir, and equally focused upon the warrior goddess who spent most of the night dancing with her. There were even a few instances of one man or another, notably King Thor himself, making any attempt to cut in and dance with one lady or the other, only to be met by one, or the other of them, with the very same response, “I would fight you for her, and I would _win_.”

Not even the king of Asgard had dared dispute that.

 

~~

 

Watching from one of the high tables set aside for the sort of guests a king might feel inclined to show off, sat Loki. He watched the whole of the crowd, taking in every little detail, though he paid particular attention to his lovers, attempting the steps of newer Asgardian dances with sometimes humorous results. He also kept an eye on his twins: from Firas where he was making Fandral’s life as difficult as possible by flirting with any woman the infamous blond playboy targeted (from some distance away, but with a fairly high success rate), to Nadía enjoying time under star- and fire-light with her love.

The crowd was already exchanging tales and rumors concerning the latter, beginning to discern for themselves that the romance between the warrior goddess and the redheaded mage was not young, not disapproved of by anyone in the palace from the King to Nadía’s own kin, and also generally thriving.

Loki watched these people warily: known gossips, of various certain opinions, who spoke very loudly about their ideas of right and wrong concerning certain matters to do with Jotunnheim, and even they remained placid. No anger, no fear: just initial confusion, and eventual reluctant understanding, and even something that might, in time, become acceptance.

Smiling tightly, the trickster turned when someone tapped him on the shoulder. His eyebrows lifted very high indeed. “Angrboða.” He smiled, soft and warm. “Hello.”

She nodded to him, and sat down in the chair beside his. “It’s been a while.”

“A few years.” He looked her over.

Tall with waves of dark auburn hair, Angrboða remained elegant and curvaceous, stronger than she looked and she looked rather strong, and effortlessly elegant. Her clothes were fine blue velvet and leathers in the fashion of the Jotunn communities in Alfheim, embroidered in gold, in complex patterns imitating ivy. “Your twins have certainly matured.”

“They have, since you last saw them.”

“They weren’t even teenagers, then. Still... I see some things haven’t changed with them at all.” She smiled softly. “Your daughter, I see, has captured a wild creature for her own.”

“That she has.”

“Your lovers seem happy, as well.”

“They are only a little drunk.”

“They are happier, with you nearer.”

He glanced at her, smiling very small and sincere and content. “You’re quite right. It’s been some time, since I reminded them of my dancing abilities.”

“Do so.”

“Angrboða... you aren’t well, are you?”

She shook her head sadly.

Loki sighed sadly. “You aren’t here.”

She nodded. “I’m not. I... you see things, on the walk to your rest. You get reminded of injuries you’ve done to the hearts of others, even the most unintentional.” Angrboða looked at him with the most tragically relieved and happy smiles. “I am so glad that you’re happy, Loki. I never knew I-”

The trickster reached out and rested a hand over hers. With focus, he could do so, though he got the distinct feeling that no one else could even see her. “Rest easy, my love,” he said softly. “You did not break me for good. I recovered.”

“So you have. I just... needed to see that one more time. Had I known...”

“You didn’t wish to know, and I knew that,” Loki whispered. “I let you go. I could have chased you, but I chose my kin instead, and my home, back then.”

“And they betrayed you.”

“And with out that, I would not be where I am,” Loki added, sending a pointed glance across the garden, pausing on his lovers, and his children, before returning his attention to his former love. “The view from where I stand, is worth all of what it took to bring me here, and more.”

Angrboða smiled, rising to her feet. She kissed his forehead briefly. “Be well, then, love. And thank you.”

“Be at peace,” Loki whispered, feeling her fade. His hands closed on truly empty air and he almost fell out of his seat rather than stepping from it as gracefully as planned. He regained enough composure to make it out into the garden, and sneak up on both of his loves where they danced and laughed together. He pulled them into an embrace just slowly enough that they recognized his touch before letting him pull them in close.

“Loki?” Pepper asked, already concerned.

“You look like-”

“I swear, Tony, that if you say ‘like I have seen a ghost’ I will-” Loki began.

“-you fell into some white face-paint. Wait what?” Tony concluded.

“-suspect you actually _are_ a creature from a sit-com. Oh...”

“You saw a ghost?” Pepper surmised.

“Yes. I now require a dance with you both. Apparently, it is part of someone’s last wish, and about damned time I joined you both regardless.”

Tony settled an arm about his waist then. “What are the other parts?”

“To be well, myself and my kin,” the trickster said. “For once, nothing ominous.”

“Good, we need no such thing tonight,” Pepper mused, glancing toward her daughter and the Lady Sif. “No problems in the crowd, Loki dear?”

“None at all, Mrs. Stark,” Loki responded, in professional tones.

“Good,” Tony sighed. “They suit each other, I think.”

“Surprising as it remains to me, I cannot help but agree,” the trickster said.

“We’ve approved for ages, and even the usual rousers of gossip-based rabbles aren’t able to muster a fuss,” Pepper said. “That’s a record, for our family, boys. Let them be. I believe someone important suggest we have a dance to attempt.”

Loki smiled brightly at her. “Yes we do.” He held out his hands to them both, and each of them took hold. “We do.”

 

~~

 

Toward the end of the night, a cold wind blew through the garden: a last gust of winter, setting the now-low bonfires flaring. Far from them, at the edges of their light, some of the Jotunn guests in lighter clothing showed their icier natures only semi-voluntarily: their bodies acclimating quickly where the Aesir around them could only shiver and pull their capes and coats more tightly around them.

Sif was aware of the eyes suddenly upon herself and her lover with renewed interest, some onlookers aghast, others almost morbidly curious. For her own part, the goddess watched with genuine fascination as Nadía’s coloration shifted from pale and porcelain to oceanic blue.

Sif giggled, a little helplessly.

Nadía frowned a little, but her eyes, now red, remained alight with mirth. “What’s so funny?”

“Not funny, truly. Just adorable.” The warrior goddess raised one hand to trail her fingertips lightly across her lover’s face, from one cheekbone, across the bridge of her nose, to the other cheekbone. “I hadn’t realized you have these freckles, even blue.”

The mage’s shoulders lifted a bit closer to her ears and she ducked her head down, visibly flustered and a little embarrassed.

“None of that, my love. Come here.”

Nadía let her chin be drawn back up and tugged closer until the goddess could press their mouths together, slow and sweet, the temperature contrast making them both inhale sharply at first, then melt into one another almost bonelessly. Sif was all heat and content exertion from dancing most of the evening, and warmed her younger lover right through, even before the cold gusts of wind died down.

Pulling back, Sif looked down at her with open affection. “You thawed.”

The mage blushed visibly. “I blame you.”

“I’m flattered,” said Sif, kissing her again.

 

No one watching them was left with any impression that the pair of them were less than smitten, but knowing Sif as they did, none dared question, not even in days to come. Some tried to start, but either wound up in bruised heaps upon the ground feeling publicly chastised, or found themselves abruptly stuck in place with ice encasing them from the ankles down, as Nadía pulled her lover away and declared those who disapproved of their relationship to be not worth their time.

Asgard knew better than to fight them in earnest, with how fiercely they protected one another in battle, according to the Warriors Three, who knew Sif better than most.

Soon enough, lingering resentments died quietly in the hearts of those who disapproved, but dared not voice as much, in the face of such fierce warriors, and their deeply protective love for one another, which the Aesir couldn’t help but recognize for its strength and depth, over time.

The lovers didn’t care, truly. They had one another, and that was enough.

 

~~

 

_At many times, in many places..._

“I thought I lost you!”

“Not me, not ever.”

“You won’t promise to never do that again, will you? No matter how I ask?”

“Not even a little,” she agreed. “Could you make the same promise? Not to come so close to death like this?”

“No... No I never could, but please...”

“When we’re needed, we will do what we must, but you have to trust that I will come back to you. Always. Just as I trust you.”

“Nadía...”

“I do trust you, with my very heart and soul, my Sif.”

“You are my heart.”

“Then trust me.”

With a sigh, Sif kissed her lover’s brow and held her close, assuring herself once more that they were both still here. “I trust you with everything, my love.”

Nadía tightened her grip on her goddess’ waist. “For you, I would do great and terrible things to make sure that I earn that trust.”

Sif kissed her lips then, very softly. “Good. Me too.”


End file.
